


The Secret of Magic

by Ninja_Librarian



Series: Just Like Magic [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: All relationships are established, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autistic Keith (Voltron), Autistic Pidge | Katie Holt, Eh there's ships and there will be smooches and cuddles but really this is a friendship story, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Racism, Kinda don't have to read JLM to understand but it would be helpful, Lance (Voltron) Has ADHD, M/M, Muggle Quidditch, Muggle Quidditch AU, no magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2019-06-21 04:23:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15549528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninja_Librarian/pseuds/Ninja_Librarian
Summary: It is fall at Altea University, which means a new season of Quidditch is about to begin!Following advice from his advisor, Keith is taking part in planning Altea's very first winter formal. However, one of the committee planning members is determined to make the entire thing an unpleasant experience for Keith.Lance feels on top of the world: he's got amazing family, an awesome boyfriend, the best friends you could ever ask for, and a full-ride scholarship that is his ticket to his dream career as an astronaut. However, a health scare throws his world into chaos and he feels trapped by things he can't control.Each are trying to survive the semester on their own. Can their friends remind them that they are a team on and off the Quidditch pitch? Or will Keith and Lance be crushed under the weight of their problems?





	1. Chapter 1

Keith took several deep breaths once he reached the top of the stairs, to catch his breath, to calm his nerves.

Though he had met with Theo Goldstein—his idol and his advisor—many times over the last two years, he always felt a little nervous before meeting with him, and always made someone proofread his e-mails before hitting ‘send’.

He had no idea why Mr. Goldstein wanted to meet with him less than a week before classes began. There was no need to revise his schedule as far as he knew, and he’d already received syllabi from all of his professors so there wasn’t a last minute cancellation.

So he timidly knocked on Mr. Goldstein’s office door, clutching his portfolio to his chest.

“Come in, Keith!” Came the response. Keith pushed open the door, closing it behind him. He brushed a piece of his hair behind his ear as he took a seat across from Mr. Goldstein’s desk. Unlike most of the faculty of Altea University, Mr. Goldstein’s office was decorated in movie posters, prints of video game characters, and his desk was a neat mess with a wide array of fidget toys and figurines guarding paperwork.

“How are you, Mr. Goldstein?” Keith asked casually as he rested his portfolio across his knees.

“Doing well,” Mr. Goldstein said, nodding slightly. “How about you, Keith? All healed?”

“Yeah,” Keith admitted. “Nothing but a scar left.”

“Were you able to play in the national Quidditch tournament?”

“I was,” Keith said. “We came in third.”

“Congrats,” Mr. Goldstein said, a hint of a smile tugging on the corner of his lips. “But I have a feeling you want to know why I asked to see you today.” Keith nodded and Mr. Goldstein opened a file in front of him, Keith’s family name and first initial on the tab. “Alright, as we discussed at the end of the last semester, you’re right on track; you’ve taken care of most of your required courses, your grades are excellent, and both your art and your programming skills have gotten better over the last few semesters.”

“Thank you, sir,” Keith said, feeling a surge of pride but also a bit of concern. If he was doing well, why was he here? “So what’s the problem?”

“It’s not exactly a problem as it is me making some suggestions for advancing your career,” Mr. Goldstein said. “I attended a few programming and video game design conferences over the summer. There is another one scheduled during fall break that I’d like for you to attend if you are able, as this one is much closer to the school and gives you an opportunity to show some of your work to many of the big names in the field. But I attended a panel at one of the conferences that I wanted to share what I learned with you, and encourage you to do some résumé building activities over the semester and the rest of your time here at Altea.

“Essentially, this panel stressed the importance of teamwork and how it is critical for success for those entering the field to be able to work together and work with others. So my challenge to you is to find something that involves you working with others towards a common goal.”

“But I play Quidditch, and that’s a team sport,” Keith pointed out. “Doesn’t that count?”

“Yes, it does, but the more you can show that you can work with others, the better it will look on your résumé and applications in the future,” Mr. Goldstein said. “These aren’t skills that can be taught in a classroom. Group projects are one thing, but it’s important to take a step back from non-academia group work. Find a common goal with other people and work towards that goal as a team.”

“Alright,” Keith said, nodding slightly. “Any suggestions?”

“There’s a lot of organizations on and off campus that put together events such as fundraisers, blood drives, food drives, that sort of thing.” Mr. Goldstein explained. “I’d look at some of those.” He pulled out a piece of paper with a typed list and handed it to Keith. “Here’s a few ideas. And don’t be afraid to ask your supervisor at the library if there is something there that would fit the description.”

“Thanks,” Keith said. “Anything else I should know?”

“For now, no,” Mr. Goldstein said. “I’ll email you if I think of something else, though, or if an opportunity arises.”

Keith nodded his thanks and Mr. Goldstein sent him off.

As he walked down the stairs, Keith looked down at the list, scanning for anything familiar or something that would jump out at him. He felt his shoulder bump into something and he looked up to see a scowling boy with blond hair and green eyes glaring at him.

“Watch where you’re going,” He snapped.

“Sorry,” Keith said, then continued down the stairs.

He had some ideas for how to follow Mr. Goldstein’s suggestion, and knew exactly where to get more.

*****

“ _Three chicken enchiladas, two beef burritos, a chile relleno, and… one? No, better make it two quesadillas. Just cheese on those, thanks._ ” Lance told the waitress in Spanish, who nodded and gave him a big smile as she tucked her notepad in her apron and grabbed the stack of menus.

Lance turned back to the bowls of chips and salsa, scooping up a big glob of salsa on a chip and taking a bite. As he chewed, he realized that his friends and teammates were giving him odd looks.

“What?” He said, still chewing.

“I learned enough Spanish in high school to know you just ordered an insane amount of food for just yourself,” Rolo said. “And you’re still scarfing down chips.”

“What?” Lance repeated. “I’m hungry, okay?”

“Dude, you know that eating that much food is going to do the opposite of what you want when you puke it all back up, right?” Hunk said, shaking his head as he sipped his water.

“Okay, one, gross,” Nyma said, leaning her arms on the table. “And two, what the heck is it that you want, Lance?”

Lance added more salsa to his bowl and said, “To gain five pounds before the end of the month.”

“Okay, why though?” Pidge asked as she grabbed a chip out of the bowl in front of her.

“Wait, when is weigh-in again?” Keith asked, brow furrowing, fingers playing with his straw wrapper.

“The official count is at the end of the month,” Lance answered. “The unofficial one was yesterday morning.”

“Weigh-in?” Shay repeated. “For the Astronaut Program?”

“Yeah. So, we have to fulfill certain physical requirements to be in the Astronaut Program. That includes being within a certain weight range in order to be in the Program,” Lance explained. “We have an unofficial weigh-in a few days before the semester begins—because what happens over break? You go home to your mother’s and she makes you food and then you go visit grandma and she makes you food, and next thing you know you’ve gained a pound or two. So the unofficial weigh-in gives us time to make weight requirements at the end of the month. It’s more of a warning than anything else.”

“So then why are you trying to gain weight?” Matt asked.

“Because, apparently, despite having food stuffed into me by both my _Abuelitas_ all summer, I’m five pounds under the minimum weight,” Lance said. “Commander Palmer said that was a first. But, I mean, it makes sense. I was in the pool most of the summer teaching swim classes, life-guarding and swimming in addition to playing Quidditch. Plus after Nationals I got the flu so I was sick for a week. It must have balanced out somehow.” 

“Just promise us that you won’t actually make yourself sick,” Allura said, narrowing her eyes slightly. “Sudden weight gain and loss is hard on the human body

“Will do, Princess,” Lance said, giving her a grin and a two-finger salute. He turned to Keith beside him. “So, how’d your meeting with Goldstein go today, Keith?”

“Yeah, what was that all about?” Shiro asked.

Keith gave a brief summary, and, to his surprise, Shiro’s eyes lit up.

“Keith, I may have just the thing you need,” He said. “It was actually going to be an order of team business to talk about tonight. Essentially, I got an e-mail a few days ago from Dean Iverson. Altea is hosting a Winter Ball for the entire student body after some students asked for there to be a formal event, but the compromise that the Board came up with is that each club or team must contribute a member to the planning committee. That way they’re not scrambling to find volunteers or resorting to begging. Would you like to be the Quidditch Team’s representative?”

“Winter Ball, huh?” Keith said, frowning some in thought. This would mean organizing, debate, teamwork, probably working with a budget of some sort, not to mention there would probably be some way of using his art and graphic design skills… Sounded a lot like what Mr. Goldstein was looking for. “I mean, I guess I could do that. Sure. Sign me up.”

“I’ll email the coordinator when we get home,” Shiro said, leaning back in his chair, putting his arm around Pidge’s shoulders. “That was easier than I thought.”

“Next order of business?” Shay asked.

Shiro pulled out his phone, opening up an app and reading out, “Practice days. Thursday nights still good for everyone this semester?”

Keith reached his hand over and grabbed Lance’s underneath the table, squeezing it slightly as ideas began to be shared about more fundraising, especially with so many new players signed up.

Lance looked over and grinned at Keith. “You still up for going over to my parents’ house tomorrow night?”

“Also known as the last movie night of the summer?” Keith asked. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Keith looked around the table, feeling content.

Things often didn’t go right in his life.

But right now? Right now, everything was perfect.

*****

“Oomph!” Lance grunted as a glittery pink projectile threw her arms around his waist, making him nearly totter backwards. He grinned, putting his hand on the back of Bella’s head. “ _Hola, Beleza. Como estas?_ ”

“ _Muy, muy, muy bein!_ ” Bella said, grinning up at him. She then released him to throw her arms around Keith, who also teetered slightly at the sudden embrace, but smiled nonetheless at Bella.

However, it made Lance’s heart jolt. And not in the usual warm, fuzzy feelings way it did to see his baby sister and Keith interact.

“Bella!” Lance scolded. “Don’t rough Keith up, okay? Personal space…”

“She’s fine,” Keith said, crouching down to pick the seven-year-old up and set her on his hip. Which, of course, did nothing for Lance’s nerves.

“Should you be lifting her?” Lance questioned.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Keith asked. Then a look of realization crossed his face, then he narrowed his eyes slightly at Lance. “Yes, mom,” He said with such biting sarcasm that Lance would have been proud of if it wasn’t currently aimed at him. “I’m totally fine to lift up a forty-pound seven-year-old. Surgeon cleared me for that two months ago. Remember? You were at the appointment with me?”

“All right, all right, I get it,” Lance said, putting his hands in the air in mock surrender. “Sorry. Can you blame a guy for worrying?”

“Well, at least you don’t have to worry about Keith’s appendix getting sick again,” Bella piped up from Keith’s hip. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, then reached for her brother with a grabby-hands motion.

Lance smiled at her and came close. Bella squirmed slightly on Keith’s hip, a huge grin on her face, then she exclaimed with pure and utter delight, “We had our first dress rehearsal today!”

“That’s awesome!” Lance said, holding out his hand for a high-five. “Congrats! You’re well on your way to being a real ballerina!”

At the beginning of summer, Bella had auditioned for parts in the local ballet company’s performance of _Cinderella_ , and earned a part as a mouse, a child celebrating the marriage of Cinderella and the prince, and—to her utter delight—the role of young Cinderella in the opening scene of the ballet. The last role she would share with another girl on alternating nights, but Bella had been chosen to be young Cinderella in opening night. Needless to say, she was very excited, especially since the four eldest McClain-Sanchez kids would be making the trek to see her performance.

“When is opening night again?” Keith asked.

“September Twenty-Sixth,” Bella said proudly. “You’ll both come, right?”

“Of course we will!” Lance said, pulling Bella of Keith’s hip and into his arms, making her giggle as he blew a raspberry against her cheek.

“Totally,” Keith agreed. “We’ll be there. Just tell us where and when to be there.”

“Papi’s got it written down, and we’ll get guest tickets in a few weeks.” Bella explained.

“How about you actually let your _hermano_ and Keith get past the coat rack and we’ll talk about it more at dinner?” Lance’s father suggested as he poked his head out of the entryway to the kitchen, wiping his hands on a green and white dishcloth.

“Need any help, Papi?” Lance asked as he set Bella down.

“No, _gracias_ ,” Riel McClain-Sanchez said. “Raymon and Bella have already set the table, and Alicia and Carlos are in here helping me. Though if you want to go ahead and get the movie set up, that would be helpful.”

“Mami home yet?” Lance asked as he led Keith and Bella into the family room. The sound of the garage door opening answered Lance’s question.

Within ten minutes, everyone was sitting down at the table for dinner. 

Fifteen minutes later, they were all gathered in the family room. Lance claimed an armchair for him and Keith as Alicia pressed play. Keith relaxed as he leaned his head back against Lance’s chest, watching _Star Wars_.

Keith noticed that Lance’s hands weren’t staying still; this wasn’t particularly unusual, as Lance’s ADHD sometimes made it difficult to stay still. But that Lance’s hand kept brushing underneath Keith’s t-shirt and resting on his abdomen was what made Keith think there was something else going on.

Especially since Lance’s finger seemed to be trailing over the pale pink scar on his right side.

Especially since anytime they cuddled lately, Lance’s hand ended up resting there, even for the briefest of moments.

“Hey,” Keith whispered, tilting his head back to look at Lance. “What are you doing?”

To his credit, Lance blushed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“It’s not bothering me, I’m just curious,” Keith said. Lance hesitated, biting his lower lip. Keith grabbed Lance’s hand, squeezing it. “Hey, come on, you can tell me. It’s okay.”

Lance closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he reopened his eyes, he looked directly at Keith with seriousness in his expression. “I’m doing it because when your mom called me to tell me that you were on your way to the hospital in the back of an ambulance… I had never been more scared before in my life. And as I’m sitting in the waiting room while you were in surgery, I realized something. I was so scared because you are the love of my life. I was so afraid I was going to lose you. So I guess I keep putting my hand here to remind me that you’re still here, that you’re alive and kicking butt. And right here in my arms.”

Keith shifted slightly, cupping Lance’s cheek. It was his turn to adopt a serious expression. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re not going to lose me.”

Then, he pressed his lips to Lance’s, both smiling at the kiss.

“Hey.”

They separated at hearing Alicia’s voice, her eyes narrowed at the two. “Could you two stop being so sappy? We’re trying to watch a movie here!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Lance said, wrapping his arms around Keith’s waist, resting his chin on Keith’s head.

For just one moment, everything was completely and utterly perfect.


	2. Chapter 2

The night after the first day of classes, Keith found himself pushing open a door to a conference room for the first official planning session for the Winter Ball.

Keith hadn’t realized he was early, but he definitely wasn’t the first person there.

“Um,” He said awkwardly, looking at the girl who was frantically walking around the table, muttering to herself and focused on a hot-pink day planner in her hands. “Hello? I’m, uh, looking for the Winter Ball committee? Is this the right place?”

The girl paused when she rounded the table, standing only a few feet away from Keith. Now that her head was raised, he could see that her eyes were red, her face pink, and her blonde hair in a messy bun.

Then, to his utter horror, she started crying.

“This stupid Winter Ball!” She sobbed, stomping her foot. “It was all my so-called best friend’s idea! She roped me into this. ‘Oh, Lacey, you’re so good at organizing, you need to be in charge of this!’ and ‘Come on, Lacey, a chance to dress up, just like it’s prom, it’ll be so much fun!’ and ‘Lacey, you’re so persuasive, you really should help us sway the board’. And I do. Because I’m an idiot. And now look at the mess I’m in!”

She gestured around to the empty conference room, and Keith didn’t see anything out of place so he assumed the mess was metaphorical rather than literal.

“Um, we haven’t even started planning it, how is it a mess?” Keith asked.

He jumped as Lacey slammed her hand on the table beside her and shouted: “Because that lousy, no-good ex-best friend of mine not only actually made this stupid Winter Ball happen, she left me in charge of it, stole my boyfriend, and then they both transferred to another university without telling me! You wanna know how I found out about this? Instagram. INSTAGRAM! They transferred to freaking Galra Tech without saying a single word, then started hooking up and posting selfies of the two of them together at Galra Tech and making out. Meanwhile, I spent my whole summer at an internship that barely paid minimum wage, worked two part-time jobs to actually try to make money and, oh yeah, actually started planning this stupid thing! And the rare few times I actually had time to spend with either of them, it was ‘Oh, no, sorry, no can do, so busy, you know how it is’. And like an idiot I believed both of them. And now suddenly I’m in charge of this, and on my own, and my life is in shambles and… And apparently I’m ranting about this to a total stranger who does not deserve this. Sorry.”

Keith blinked. “Whoa. Um. Sorry. Sounds like you’ve had a rough couple of days.”

Lacey huffed and blew her bangs out of her eyes. “That doesn’t even begin to describe it.” She sighed and scrubbed at her face with her hand. “I don’t know what I’m going to do… I went from co-chair to chair of the committee overnight and I need a right hand man. Right hand woman. Right hand person? Whatever, I need someone to help me out and I know practically no one. And I’d call it quits on the whole thing, except now the board and Dean Iverson are incredibly interested in making this thing a success, because it could be something else they can brag about to bring in new students…”

“Well, don’t worry too much,” Keith told her. “You’re going to have a team to help you. And, hey, if you’re going to need a right-hand person, then you’ll just have to pick from us. I know one of us will be the right choice.”

“Yeah, but how will I know what that right choice is?” Lacey asked.

“Well, you could do interviews or something,” Keith suggested with a shrug. “Find out who has the qualities you’re looking for.”

“Like what?” Lacey asked, frowning. “I have no idea what I’m looking for. Right-hand person experience? Is that a thing?”

“Oh, it’s definitely a thing,” Keith said, smiling now. “I know, because I have right-hand man experience.”

Lacey blinked. “You do?”

_And, you probably took things too far, Keith…_

“Well, um,” He said nervously, running a hand through his hair. “Uh, see, my brother, he, uh, he doesn’t have one. A right arm. I mean, he has a right arm, he was born with one, but now he’s an amputee. He’s got a prosthetic but when it’s off, I’m predominately the one who helps him if he needs it. Sorry. That’s what I meant.”

Lacey stared at him. “What’s your name?”

“Uh, Keith. Keith Kwan. I’m representing the Quidditch team?”

Lacey burst into a grin. “Congratulations, Keith Kwan. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to be my right hand man through the next four months and ensuring we both live to see finals and get this Winter Ball planned to perfection.”

Keith was stunned. She wanted him? To be her second in command in this? A complete stranger?

He thought of a million reasons to say no.

But then he thought, _You know what? What the heck._

“I accept,” Keith said, extending his hand out to shake hers.

Lacey dropped her journal and grabbed his hand with both of hers, eyes shining. “Thank you so much… This means a lot to me.”

“Am I interrupting something?”

They both turned to see that the door had been opened again, and Keith recognized the blond boy from earlier in the week when he left Goldstein’s office.

“Oh, hi Brock,” Lacey said, letting go of Keith’s hands. “Nope. Just thanking Keith here for stepping up to the plate and being my right-hand man.”

“Did he now?” Brock said. He had a smile on his face, but something about it made Keith feel on edge. “Well, it’s a good thing Keith was here when you needed him, then. How long have you two known each other?”

“We just met, and—despite recent events—I hope I’m not too bad of a judge of personality,” Lacey said. To Keith, she said, “Brock and I have somehow ended up in at least one class together every semester, so we’ve known each other a while.” She grabbed her planner, and flipped through the pages. “Brock, you’re representing the football team?”

“Yep,” Brock said, grinning broadly at her and flexed his muscles. “Here as the big strong man you can always rely on.”

“Well, that will come in handy for set up,” Lacey said, not even looking up as she made a check-mark. “And Keith, you said you’re with Quidditch? I went to a few of your matches during the spring, and they looked like so much fun.”

“Well, we’re always looking for more players if you’re interested,” Keith said. “Seriously, we’re having a scrimmage tomorrow night to give people who have shown an interest a chance to try it out before committing. You should come.”

“You know what? I think I will,” Lacey said, making a note in her calendar. “I need to do something fun for myself.”

Just then, the door opened, and more people filed in, reporting to Lacey of their club and team affiliations. Keith went to find a seat near Lacey’s things—figuring as her new right-hand man that should be where he sat—but a broad shoulder pushed past him.

Keith blinked as Brock took the seat to the right of Lacey’s purse, the larger boy glowering at him as he did so. Keith wasn’t sure what to make of that, so he just took a seat two spaces over, on Lacey’s other side. He pulled his messenger bag into his lap, pulling out a notebook and pen. He heard a scoff and looked up, over at Brock, who smirked slightly, his eyes on Keith’s bag.

Keith didn’t understand this at first, looking down at his bag for a moment. It held several enamel pins: one with two crossed brooms with a Gryffindor pennant for Quidditch; a Gryffindor crest; a South Korean flag; a little black cat with a knife in its mouth that Lance had gifted to him for Valentine’s day with a claim that it reminded him of Keith; a Pokeball; Mothman; one with a UFO that said ‘I Believe’; a green alien head; a NASA pin, and…

Keith’s finger unconsciously brushed the newest one. A heart, but one half had rainbow stripes and the other half had three stripes in pink, purple and blue. Keith had bought it at a Pride festival back in June, and bought a matching one for Lance as an early birthday present.

“Not surprised,” Brock said with a shrug.

Keith’s insides twisted slightly, but he also grit his teeth. He’d been out practically forever, and yeah he had faced harassment and insults before. But that only made him angry. Despite popular belief—okay, perhaps it was more just Shiro’s belief—Keith didn’t go looking for fights. He was just always ready to fight, always on his guard.

To his surprise, Brock leaned over and said, “You haven’t ruined anything yet.”

Keith’s brow furrowed, but didn’t get a chance to question this as Lacey came to take her seat, calling the meeting to order.

Keith kept an eye on Brock, and noticed how he was watching Lacey throughout the meeting. How intently he was watching, how he was always the first to say something or agree with her.

Then something clicked.

Oh. Brock had a crush on her, then? That made sense. Maybe all of the hostility was seeing another male as a rival.

Keith then started questioning himself. Was that really a scoff he had heard Brock make? Maybe more of a sigh of relief or laughing at himself? The smirk actually a smile?

Keith started kicking himself internally. Maybe he was just totally imagining things as being aggressive, as being antagonistic. Maybe he was misjudging, misunderstanding. Maybe Brock was just about as socially awkward as Keith usually felt. Maybe Keith was always looking for a fight…

Whatever it was, it wasn’t a good way to get started on this project, especially as long term as it was going to be. He couldn’t do a thing about Brock, but he could make an effort to be at least friendly to each other.

_It’s only day one,_ Keith reminded himself as he set the date for the dance into both his physical calendar and the one on his phone. _It’s August twenty-third. The dance is December eighth. One hundred and seven days to make this work._

*****

“So, all in all, the first meeting went well?” Lance asked as they walked towards the Quidditch pitch, brooms against their shoulders, water bottles in hand. Keith had just finished giving him an abridged version of what had been discussed during the Winter Ball planning meeting.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Keith said. He hesitated, then he said, “Well, I’m kind of still mulling over some things that happened.”

Keith explained everything that happened with Brock, about the crush he was fairly sure Brock had on Lacey, and that he thought he was misinterpreting things.

“Maybe I’m just one of those people who assume the worst about everyone,” Keith admitted.

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Lance assured him. “He’s someone you don’t know well, so you don’t know how he usually acts. And it was the first day of classes, so maybe that was stressful or whatever so he wasn’t acting the way he usually does. First impressions aren’t always the best, you know?”

“Considering I’m dating the guy who declared us rivals within fifteen minutes of knowing each other, I’d say that’s pretty accurate.”

“Only because it was love at first sight for me and I thought you were dating Shiro,” Lance said, nudging his shoulder against Keith’s. “Plus you were a total Mr. Darcy and kept giving me looks like you wouldn’t even give me the time of day, and that I was ‘tolerable, but not handsome enough to suit you’.”

“I can promise you that I did not think that once, Lizzy Bennet,” Keith retorted, elbowing Lance lightly in the gut. “You are totally handsome enough to suit me. Tolerable, on the other hand…”

“Hey!”

“Don’t ‘hey’ me, you’re the one who was making meme and Vine references every other minute. Akira arrived and you yelled ‘Here comes dat boi!’ and then pouted when no one followed it up.”

“That is a classic and it deserves all the respect. That meme was disrespected that day and I was ashamed to know all of you.”

“Whatever,” Keith said as they set their water bottles down. He grinned and waved over Lacey. “Glad you could make it!”

“Thanks again for inviting me!” She said.

Keith introduced Lacey and Lance, the latter of whom said, “Nice to meet you. Keith’s just been telling me about the meeting last night. Sounds like this is going to be an awesome party.”

“I sure hope so,” Lacey said. 

Shiro called everyone together, and everyone introduced themselves. There were eight new players in addition to Lacey: Kim, Bex, Josh, Jeremy, Tyler, Steven, Rhys and A.J. Shiro gave a brief overview of each position, what each of the balls were, and how the game is played.

“Tonight, we’re going to do a scrimmage. We’re not going to have a Snitch runner or Seeker, but everyone can try playing a different position.” Shiro explained. “Shay and I, as captains, are going to pick teams and coach from the sidelines. Since we will have more people than there are players on the field, if you want to watch a bit first before deciding what position you want to play, that’s fine, too.”

With that, teams were picked.

Shiro chose Pidge, Keith, Josh, Steven, A.J., Matt, and Lacey. Shay picked Hunk, Lance, Tyler, Kim, Rhys, Allura, Bex, and Jeremy.

Keith was paired with Steven as Beaters, while Matt took A.J. and Lacey under his wing as Chasers and Josh went to play Keeper.

On the other side, Hunk and Tyler were Beaters, while Allura, Kim and Jeremy were Chasers and Rhys went to play Keeper.

Twenty minutes in, Shiro and Shay paused play to allow for substitutions. Bex and Lance both went in as Chasers while Pidge went in for Matt.

“Your team’s going down, babe,” Lance informed Keith as they passed each other on the pitch.

“Only in your dreams, Lance,” Keith retorted.

Lance smirked and walked away.

Keith couldn’t help but grin either.

He and Lance were two of the most competitive players on this team, and loved the opportunity to go against each other as much as they loved to play together.

But Lance just painted a target on his back.

And Keith’s aim was to hit a bulls-eye.

Play restarted and went on. The Quaffle was passed back and forth, there were groans as Chasers were hit with Bludgers and went back to hoops, there were cheers and shouts of encouragement for the Keepers.

Keith scooped up a Bludger and saw Lance, a wide-open target, facing his own hoops. Lance was in the prime position to receive the Quaffle from Rhys, who just made a save.

Not if Keith had anything to say about it.

He threw the Bludger, and the dodgeball collided with Lance’s shoulder.

Keith grinned waiting for Lance to turn around with an indignant look, his defense of “All is fair in love, war, and Quidditch” on his tongue.

But Lance didn’t turn.

Instead, he teetered back and forth slightly, broom dropping out of his hand as he toppled over onto his side.

Keith rolled his eyes and shouted, “Get up, drama queen!”

But Lance didn’t move.

By the sideline, Allura called out, “Lance?” Then, a more frantic, “Lance!”

Keith’s blood ran cold as Allura ran onto the field towards Lance, Shiro right behind her.

Something was very wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't act so surprised. You all know me and my love of writing cliffhangers.


	3. Chapter 3

“Lance! Lance!”

Lance squeezed his eyes shut with a groan. It was too early for this… Just let him sleep a little longer… Who wanted him to wake up that badly? And why?

Wait. Why didn’t he remember going to bed last night?

Wait. Why was the bed in his dorm a lot harder than he remembered?

“LANCE!”

That voice was Keith’s… Why was Keith yelling at him?

“Lance, wake up!”

Allura?

He felt stiff fingers pat his cheek a few times and he groaned again, blinking open his eyes, looking up at Shiro and Allura’s faces above him.

Did Hunk let them in?

Wait. This wasn’t his dorm room. Or his bedroom at home.

There was grass against his arms, the ceiling—no, the sky—was turning shades of pink and orange with the setting sun.

He was outside?

“What happened?” He groaned slightly.

“You passed out,” Shiro said, gently putting a hand under Lance’s back to help him sit up.

“Look at me,” Allura demanded, holding up a finger in front of Lance’s face. “Follow my finger, okay?”

Lance did so, but asked, “Did I hit my head on something?”

“You hit the ground hard when you fell,” Allura answered. “How do you feel?”

“Dizzy?” Lance answered. “Shaky? Hot? I don’t… What happened?”

“What is the last thing you remember?” Shiro asked. Lance saw him make a small gesture, aimed at someone else.

“Quidditch,” Lance said. “We were playing Quidditch, a scrimmage with the—oomph!”

Lance wrapped his arms around Keith, who was holding him tightly, his breathing heavy and uneven.

“Keith, let him breathe a little,” Shiro gently chided.

“He’s fine,” Lance argued weakly, and Keith’s response was to hug him tighter.

“Here, drink some water,” Shay said, bringing over Lance’s bottle.

Lance gratefully gulped down some water—though with some small amount of difficulty due to Keith holding him so tightly. Allura grabbed Lance’s free arm, pressing her fingertips to the inside of his wrist.

“Your pulse is fast,” Allura said after a moment.

“Well, yeah, your heart would be working overtime too if you just woke up without any memory of going to sleep in the middle of Quidditch practice. It’s kind of scary,” Lance said. “For what it’s worth, I feel fine. A little shaky, but I think that’s adrenaline.”

“We’re done for the night,” Shiro declared, standing up.

Guilt suddenly flooded Lance, replacing the confusion. This practice was to give the newbies a taste of the game. What if they chose not to play now? Shiro would be devastated, they’d all done so much to preserve the team from being axed, and now…

“I’m sorry,” Lance mumbled, putting his head between his knees. “I’m sorry…”

“Lance, you don’t have anything to apologize for,” Hunk said, taking the place Shiro had occupied only a moment before. “We’re just worried about you right now. Did you feel sick before practice?”

Lance shook his head slightly. Well, tried to, at least, since he still had his head between his knees. “No… Felt fine… Thought for sure I was hydrated enough.”

“When was the last time you ate anything?” Allura asked. “Perhaps your blood sugar is low.”

“Ate about an hour before practice,” Lance said, lifting his head.

“How do you feel now?” Hunk asked.

“Tired, mostly. Haven’t been sleeping well,” Lance admitted. “Combine that with getting up at oh-five hundred for PT…”

“You never sleep well the first week of PT,” Keith said, speaking for the first time since Lance had heard his boyfriend yell his name. Lance didn’t like the worry that was tightening Keith’s voice. “Allura, you’re pre-med. What’s going on?”

“Keith, I couldn’t even begin to fathom what this means,” Allura said. “It could just be a fluke, or it could be something more serious.”

“Either way, the doctors at the Student Health Center will be able to give us a better answer,” Shiro said, coming back over, with Pidge, Shay and Matt trailing behind. “Hunk, help me get Lance to—”

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa,” Lance said, sticking up his hands palms out. “I’m fine. I don’t need to go to Student Health, and even if I did I don’t need help getting there. Besides, I just got a physical there last week and they gave me a clean bill of health. I’m fine.”

“Lance, your hands are shaking and you passed out, none of that goes under the category of ‘fine’,” Keith said, taking Lance’s hands in his. “Can you even walk, let alone stand up?”

“Yes,” Lance insisted. He freed his hands from Keith’s, pushed himself off the ground, then took five steps forward. He then turned around and walked five steps back towards Keith. He felt a little shaky, but he had never passed out before. That was probably normal, right? He placed his hands on Keith’s shoulders, giving him a smile to counter Keith’s studious glower. “See? I’m fine.”

Keith wrapped his arm around Lance’s waist, leading him over to the bench, where Keith thrust his own water bottle into Lance’s hands while Pidge pulled out a package of peanut-butter crackers, with a similar assertion that Lance should consume them. He did so, saying through a mouthful, “I don’t need to go to Student Health. You can’t make me go.”

“Yes we can,” Keith argued. He looked at Hunk. “You could carry him there, right?”

“Yeah, I could, but I’m not gonna,” Hunk said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Lance is right; we can’t force him to go. He’s an adult, he’s no longer unconscious, he’s not showing any additional signs of distress or mental incapacity.”

“I’ll argue with you on that last one,” Keith snapped.

Shiro placed a placating hand on Keith’s shoulder. “No, Hunk is right. Lance is an adult and can make his own decisions. And Allura’s checked Lance for a concussion and found no symptoms. Lance, are you in any pain?”

“Only thing bruised is my dignity at this point,” Lance said with a shrug.

Shiro nodded. “Then, no, we cannot force Lance to go to Student Health. Technically.”

“Wait, technically?” Lance repeated, frowning up at Shiro.

“I am willing to make a deal,” Shiro said. “We will not have Hunk throw you over his shoulder and drag you to Student Health kicking and screaming, provided you take the morning off of PT tomorrow and if you feel off in any way, shape or form, you tell one of us and let someone make sure you get to Student Health for them to examine you.”

“I can’t miss PT, especially not this early on in the semester,” Lance argued. “I only have five unexcused absences a semester, and I need to save those for some of the Quidditch matches!”

“Then go to health center now and get an excused absence,” Shiro challenged.

“That’s a waste of everyone’s time, since I feel fine!” Lance exclaimed.

“This is the only deal I’m willing to make. You have ten seconds to decide if you want to accept it.”

“What happened to ‘Lance is an adult and can make his own decisions’?”

“Yeah, and as another adult, I’m fully aware that adults make dumbass decisions every day. Seven seconds.”

Lance rolled his eyes, tilting his head back to look at the sky with a groan. “Fine. I’ll skip out on PT in the morning. Happy now?”

“Content,” Shiro responded with a nod.

Beside Lance, Keith’s jaw tightened and his lips pursed into a pout. Lance knew Keith did not feel the same way. Lance put his hand on Keith’s knee and kissed Keith’s cheek, whispering, “I’m okay. I promise.”

Keith’s expression softened and he wrapped his arms around Lance’s waist again, holding him close. “Don’t scare me like that again,” He whisper-growled in Lance’s ear.

“I won’t, I won’t…” Lance assured him.

*****

It took forever to get back to the dorm, mostly because it took forever for Shiro and Pidge to pry Keith off of Lance. Keith was only satisfied when Lance promised to call him before he went to bed, and that he would call him in the morning when he woke up. Hunk vetoed when Lance said that Keith could call in the middle of the night, too, if he wanted.

Lance yawned as he kicked off his shoes, storing his broomstick in the corner by his desk. He felt tired and gross, his skin covered in sweat, dirt and grass. Plus, he did feel a little sore. A hot shower would fix that… Maybe would even help him sleep.

Lance started gathering his things, saying to Hunk, “I’m going to grab a quick shower, don’t wait up.”

Hunk frowned and grabbed one of his textbooks, a notebook, pens and highlighters. Lance was confused when he headed for the door, Hunk following him.

“You going to study in the common room?” He asked.

“Nope.” Hunk said.

“The library’s about to close, you know.”

“I know.”

“Then where are you going to study?”

“Shower room.”

“Shower—?” Lance frowned, realizing. “Hunk. No. Personal space, buddy.”

“Uh, nope. Not tonight. I’m going to shadow you until your butt is tucked into bed and you cannot stop me.”

Lance groaned. “Hunk, this is overkill, and you know it.”

Hunk suddenly looked incredibly angry, which made Lance retreat a step. He had never seen Hunk get angry before. He really didn’t like that this anger was directed at him.

“Lance Manuel McClain de Sanchez,” Hunk growled. “Do you have any idea how badly you scared everyone tonight? Myself included?”

“I didn’t mean to pass out,” Lance said, trying hard not to feel intimidated by his best friend using his full name as a weapon. “I’m sorry. But I’m okay, so I really don’t see what the big deal is.”

“The big deal?” Hunk repeated, eyes burning and Lance felt himself shrink. “Big deal? The big deal is that we watched as you went from standing and running around like nothing was wrong, then all of a sudden you were on the ground like you were tossed there like a ragdoll. The big deal is that Matt literally had 9-1-1 dialed when you opened your eyes. The big deal is that I was trying to remember your parents’ phone numbers to call them, not even sure what I was going to tell them. The big deal is that I had to hold your boyfriend back while you laid on the ground unresponsive and he screamed your name and muttered that this was his fault. The big deal is that it doesn’t matter if it was only circumstantial that you ate dirt after being hit by a Bludger, Keith is the one angsting over it and thinking that you were hurt because he was the one who threw the quiznaking ball. Now. You want to try again and maybe, just maybe, get the slightest idea of how big a deal this was?”

Lance swallowed, feeling sick in a way that he knew was completely unrelated to this evening’s incident.

“Hunk, I’m sorry,” He said. “I didn’t mean to scare you guys.”

“I know you didn’t.” Hunk said. “Just… you would feel the same if it was one of us. I know that. And I know you’re trying to make us not worry, but, sorry, we’re going to.” He sighed, anger melting away. “Just… Please don’t make me regret not hauling your skinny butt over to the health center, okay?

“I won’t,” Lance said, guilt forming a pit in his stomach. But not for what he had done. For what he was going to do. “I’m sorry.”

Hunk nodded. “I know you are. Now, let’s go get to the shower room before all the stalls are taken.”

Lance nodded. “You know, it might be better for your stuff if you just get a shower now.”

“Nah, I’ll get one after you get in bed and while you call Keith. Give you two some privacy. Plus, that way, if you do pass out again while in the shower, only one of us is naked and fully able to adult about the situation.” 

Lance snorted. “Yeah, good point.”

Lance conceded to Hunk’s hovering, conceded to staying in bed and talking on the phone with Keith until Hunk finished showering, conceded to going to sleep early.

Lance was already half-way awake when the alarm on his phone buzzed him awake as it usually did. Lance rushed to silence it, but it was too late. Hunk had rolled over and mumbled, “Don’t you do it…”

“I just forgot to turn off the alarm,” Lance whispered. “Going back to sleep.”

He waited until Hunk seemed to have fallen asleep, then pushed off the covers, cursing internally when he heard, “Where are you going?”

“Just to the bathroom, since I’m up,” Lance said, setting his feet down on the floor. “Be back in a few.”

Lance watched as Hunk rolled back over, then he went to the door. Near the door were two identical closets facing each other, one Lance’s and the other Hunk’s. Hanging from the doorframe of Lance’s closet was his PT uniform, his boots beside the door. Looking over his shoulder first, Lance grabbed the uniform and boots, slipping out of the dorm.

He’d be back before Hunk woke up again…

*****

When Shiro arrived at the lobby of Pidge’s dorm, she was already stretching, her arms over her head. And she was yawning. Okay, maybe the stretching had nothing to do with their early-morning jog.

“Why’d I let you talk me into this?” Pidge yawned.

“If we go later, it will be hot, and the AC is out in the gym again,” Shiro reminded her. “So take your pick.”

“My pick is to go back to bed.”

“You’re the one who wanted to get faster for the season.”

“And you’re the one who should have said, ‘Oh, Pidge, my wonderful precious girlfriend, you are just fast enough, don’t you worry about a thing’.”

Shiro smirked. “And give up an opportunity to see your beautiful face first thing in the morning?”

Pidge narrowed her eyes slightly. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re the worst type of morning person? Annoyingly cute?”

“Annoying, yes. Cute, no. You ready to go or not?”

Pidge huffed. “Alright, alright, let’s go.”

The two started down the path they had mapped out previously, jogging past the library, towards the Quidditch fields, and eventually towards the Lion’s Forge—a large building that the engineering department utilized for their students to build things in.

“Did Lance actually call Keith last night?” Pidge asked as they jogged.

“Yeah,” Shiro said. “Keith’s still shaken up about what happened. Way more than Lance is, so I guess that’s a good thing.”

“Any idea what could have caused him to pass out like that? Because that was really kind of scary.”

“None whatsoever. And, agreed. Right now, I’m just hoping that Lance is right, that this was a one-time fluke.”

“Even if it is a one-time fluke, something caused it.”

“Honestly? I’m okay not knowing what caused it as long as it doesn’t happen again,” Shiro explained. He frowned suddenly, squinting off into the distance, slowing down.

“What’s wrong?” Pidge asked, grateful for the stop, taking some deep breaths. She loved her boyfriend dearly, but his long legs were hard to keep up with.

“The Quidditch fields…” Shiro said. “That’s where the Astronaut Program has their Physical Training every morning.”

“Yeah?” Pidge said, frowning. “And it’s where the lacrosse team practices, and the soccer team, and the field hockey team…?”

“Pidge, look,” Shiro said.

She squinted and then her eyes widened, heart pounding at seeing several people surrounding something on the ground.

She gasped upon hearing one of those people yell, “McClain-Sanchez!”

Shiro grit his teeth and took off running at a full sprint, Pidge running behind him.

Because the something on the ground was actually a someone.


	4. Chapter 4

Lance’s first conscious thought was, _This isn’t my bed_.

Then he opened his eyes.

Which, as the world was spinning above him, was probably a mistake.

Everything above him was a blur of orange, gray, and white, with a glob of green and brown. Oh, and there were two people arguing somewhere near his head. He knew it was two different people, two different voices, but couldn’t tell what words were being said. It all sounded like the adults from the _Peanuts_ specials.

_Wha wha, wha wha wha wha._

Finally, the earth stopped spinning and his vision cleared. He swallowed slightly, blinking a few times as he realized that the green blob was actually a familiar, concerned face.

“Pidge?” He groaned.

What was she doing here?

Oh, the voices were more distinct now.

“—care who the hell you are, you have no right to—”

“—not incompetent enough to know when—”

Why was Shiro arguing with Commander Palmer?

Wait.

Oh no. He was so busted. He was so in for it.

Shiro was going to murder him.

Scratch that, Keith was going to murder him.

No, scratch that, _Hunk_ was going to murder him.

Nope, nope, no, scratch that, the three of them would have Pidge find a necromancer on the dark web, hire that necromancer with their combined life savings, then take turns murdering Lance and having the necromancer resurrect him so that the next one could get a turn.

“Lance,” Pidge said, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Are you okay?”

“Just peachy,” Lance groaned, pushing himself up. He grimaced at the feel of squishy mud between his fingers. More mud was getting cold on his face. Gross. If he was going to have mud on his face, it was going to be high quality mud mask, thank you very much, not the crap from the PT fields.

Shiro cut himself mid argument with Commander Palmer to round on Lance. “Are you insane? You are not ‘just peachy’. People who are ‘just peachy’ don’t quiznaking pass out twice in less than twelve hours!”

“Wait, what did you just say?” Commander Palmer exclaimed, whatever irritation he had gone. To the gathered group of hovering students from the Astronaut Program, he shouted, “You lollygaggers go spend the rest of PT time running laps now!”

Murmuring and whispering, the rest of the orange, gray and white camouflaged AP students jogged off.

“What the quiznak is he talking about, McClain-Sanchez?” Commander Palmer demanded.

“Er…” Lance said, swallowing again. Oh, this was bad, this was very bad…

Fortunately, or unfortunately, Shiro did the explaining. “Lance passed out at Quidditch practice last night. No hit to the head, no other readily explainable reason. He promised he wouldn’t come to PT today, instead of going straight to Student Health.”

Lance shrank slightly under the weight of Shiro’s glare.

The glare that he got from Commander Palmer was even worse as he said, “Well, it’s a good thing that’s where he’s heading right now, isn’t it?”

Apparently, Lance was going to Student Health.

Whether he liked it or not.

*****

Fortunately, Dr. Darby, the Head Physician for the Astronaut Program, was more forgiving than his Quidditch captain and his commanding officer when Lance explained the reason why he was on the exam table for the second time in two weeks.

Dr. Darby immediately checked for a concussion and found no symptoms. A blood draw was ordered. His vitals were checked. His internal organs prodded. He was checked for vertigo, low blood sugar, Lyme disease—all with negative results.

Lance released a breath as Dr. Darby moved the stethoscope from his chest.

“Your heartrate is a little elevated, but I can’t find anything else out of the ordinary,” The doctor explained. “However, many heart conditions have fainting as a symptom.”

Lance swallowed slightly. That could not be good… “What does that mean? I have some sort of heart disease?”

“Unfortunately, we don’t have the facilities here to truly diagnose anything more than the flu, the common cold, and most STDs.” Dr. Darby said as he flicked his gloves into the trash can.

Lance made a mental note to toss his PT uniform in the wash, using the hottest water possible. And bleach.

“So, I’m free to go?” Lance asked hesitantly.

“Nope,” Dr. Darby said. “As a medical professional, I believe that there is something that needs to be addressed, and as quickly as possible. But without the equipment to know what that something is, we’re useless here.” The older man narrowed his eyes slightly, looking sad. “You’ve already been in my exam room once and I missed something. I’m not letting you out only for whatever this is to get worse.”

Lance nodded. “Then what’s the next step?”

“You sit tight, and I’m going to make a phone call to Sincline Memorial Hospital. They will definitely have the means to bring forth a definite diagnosis. With any luck, they’ll have a bed available in their holding unit, which is a non-emergency situation unit for observing and diagnosing,” Dr. Darby said. With that, he left Lance alone and to his own thoughts and fears.

Lance groaned and laid back on the exam table, crinkling the paper. This was a mess. Partially a mess of his own making, but a mess nonetheless.

Memorial, at least, meant some familiarity. It was where his mother worked.

Oh. His mother.

He should probably call his parents.

If Hunk or Shiro hadn’t already done so.

Oh, that was not going to be a fun conversation.

One of Dr. Darby’s nurses knocked on the door and entered. “Dr. Darby’s got a bed reserved for you at Memorial. You’re not going by ambulance because it’s not an emergency, but you do need to report there before noon. However, given the reason you are here, you’re not allowed to drive until further notice. Dr. Darby also advises you pack a bag in case you’re admitted overnight.”

“Am I cleared to walk across campus by myself?” Lance asked, half sarcastically, half honestly.

“Well, you don’t really have to,” The nurse said. “The two friends who brought you in had to leave, but not before two of your other friends arrived.”

Lance’s blood ran cold. “By any chance, it’s not a big stocky Samoan guy and a short, angry, emo Korean guy, is it?”

“It would be,” The nurse confirmed. “And the big stocky Samoan guy has been debating between hugging you, throttling you, and lecturing you for the last half hour. Do with that information what you will.”

Lance closed his eyes, sighed, and got to his feet.

Time to face the music.

*****

Turns out, Hunk did all three.

“What the quiznak were you thinking?” Hunk demanded as he squeezed Lance tightly into a hug. Then he held Lance at arm’s length, glowering, shaking the Latino a little. “Nope, never mind, it is clear that you weren’t thinking at all. Have you any idea how worried I’ve been? Bed empty! No note! Uniform gone! Could have died! Out of my mind with worry! Do you care? Never, as long as I live…!”

“I get it, Mrs. Weasley,” Lance said, voice a bit muffled and his face squished against Hunk’s chest again. “I’m sorry… I really am…”

“Oh, you’re not even beginning to feel sorry yet!” Hunk declared, shoving Lance away again, this time turning him around to face the wrath-filled glare of Keith’s narrowed violet eyes. His jaw was clenched, his arms were folded over his chest, his entire aura letting everyone in the room know exactly what his mood was.

Lance gulped. “Um. Hey, babe…”

“Don’t ‘hey, babe’ me,” Keith snapped. “I am a raging ball of emotions right now.”

Lance nodded and ducked his head, guilt crashing over him.

However, he was nearly knocked off balance when Keith crashed into him.

Lance put his arms around Keith, whispering, “I’m sorry…”

“You idiot,” Keith whispered. “You scared me so bad… And I’m so angry with you. But happy to see you’re okay. But mostly angry with you.”

“Yeah, I deserve that,” Lance said, patting Keith on the back. “And I am an idiot.”

“Yup, you are,” Hunk agreed. “C’mon, Keith. Let’s get this idiot to the hospital, okay?”

*****

Keith clutched Lance’s hand pretty much the entire time. Lance couldn’t tell if it was for moral support, or if Keith was afraid of Lance wandering off like a child at the mall.

Either way, he was not pleased when Lance was called back for intake, and told he couldn’t join him.

“It’ll be quick,” Lance insisted. “They just want to get my vitals and draw blood and stuff.”

Keith still scowled, but let go of Lance’s hand and replaced it with a magazine. Lance had never seen anyone so aggressively decide to start reading _Better Homes and Gardens_.

The nurse who called him back let him enter a small room, sitting him down in a chair. “Now, before we get started, I have a question for you. We have a few students, and would it be alright if I brought one in to take your vitals and do your blood draw? She needs practice.”

“Sure,” Lance said, half expecting the question. Memorial was a teaching hospital for both Altea University and their rival school, Galra Tech. Allura was the only person he really knew in Altea’s pre-med program, and she didn’t start her internships until the spring, so he figured he was in the clear of running into anyone he knew.

Until the nurse reappeared, the student in tow.

Lance did a double-take.

The student’s face fell and her eyes widened.

“Lance, this is Helen. She attends Galra Tech. Helen, this is our patient, Lance.” The nurse said, smiling, not noticing either of the college students’ reactions.

Lance hardly recognized Haggar. Her typically dyed-white hair was brunette, and the only black she wore was her black scrub pants and shoes. Her earrings were all filled with clear plastic retainers with the exception of a pair of purple crystal studs that matched her scrub top, and her make-up looked more like Barbie than the Corpse Bride.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Lance said, deciding to go casual instead of asking what happened to the gothic Morticia Adams look he was used to.

“Likewise.” Haggar—Lance’s brain refused to correct to ‘Helen’—said a bit flatly.

“Oh? You two have met?” The nurse asked.

“Yeah, we’re opponents at least once a semester when we play—” Lance started to say as Haggar said,

“Volleyball!”

Lance blinked as Haggar continued, slightly rambling as she said, “I play for Galra Tech, Lance plays for Altea. We play beach volleyball in the spring, and in the gym in the fall.”

She gave Lance a pointed look.

“Uh, yeah,” Lance said awkwardly. “Uh, Hag—er, Helen here’s got a killer serve. Don’t want to be on the other side of that.”

“Oh!” The nurse said, smiling. “My daughter plays volleyball, too. Well, it’s always good to hear of college students exercising and socializing through sports. Good for the mental health as well as the physical.” Her smile dropped some. “However, since you two know each other…”

“It’s fine,” Lance said quickly. “It’s just vital signs and a blood draw, right? I don’t have anything against… Helen… doing any of that. Plus, you know, support your fellow students and whatnot.”

And maybe he’d get a better idea of just what the heck is going on here.

“Helen?” The nurse asked. Haggar nodded, not quite meeting her eye. “Well, then let’s get to it.”

Haggar quickly washed her hands and grabbed the digital thermometer. However, she frowned as she tried to turn it on. “The display won’t stay on,” She explained, showing the nurse. “It flashes on for a second but then flashes off.”

“Battery must be dead,” The nurse said. “Easy fix. Let me go grab another one, and I’ll ask Brittany to replace the battery in this one.”

She disappeared from the room, leaving Lance and Haggar alone for a moment.

“So,” Lance said. “Interesting look you’ve got going for you…”

Haggar snarled at him, pointing a finger at his face. “Not one word! And don’t you dare tell anyone about Quidditch! I need to be taken seriously!”

“I’m not exactly seeing a correlation,” Lance admitted.

Haggar growled. “I can’t dress how I usually do for my clinicals—I’ve got to adhere to hospital dress code, hence the scrubs—and as loathe as I am to admit it, my parents are right. If I want to have a good job I need to present myself as normal as possible. Dressing in goth and playing Quidditch don’t contribute to that at all. So just do me a favor and go along with my story, and don’t ruin this for me.”

“Okay, okay,” Lance said, holding up his hands protectively. “Like I’m going to anger the lady who is about to stab me in the vein and take my blood.” He was quiet, then he said, “I didn’t know you were a nursing student.”

“I’m not,” Haggar said. “My degree is in clinical laboratory science with a focus in molecular biotechnology. Phlebotomy is one of the courses I need, and this is my clinicals.”

“Ah, okay. Cool. Wait, then why are you also taking my vitals?”

“Good skill to have, and I asked to be taught to increase my own skill set,” She explained. Then she tilted her head at him slightly. “So. What are you in for?”

“That’s for the docs here to find out, I guess,” Lance said. “But apparently passing out twice within twelve hours is enough to make people a little worried about you.”

“Just a little?” Haggar said, arching an eyebrow.

Just then, the nurse reentered the room, presenting Haggar with a different thermometer. Lance had his temperature checked, as well as his blood pressure, pulse and blood oxygen levels.

“Any pain?” Haggar asked as she removed the clip from his finger.

“Nope,” Lance reported.

“You mentioned that you passed out, so any dizziness or nausea?” Haggar asked as she washed her hands again, this time pulling on gloves and preparing the blood draw kit. “Feel lightheaded?”

“At the moment, no,” Lance said, rolling up his sleeve for Haggar to wrap a piece of rubber tubing around his upper arm.

“Good,” Haggar said. She grinned, slightly wickedly. “Can’t have you passing out on me.”

Lance laughed a bit nervously as she dabbed antiseptic on the inside of his elbow.

He watched her get what she needed and relaxed. He’d had blood drawn before, and he never got queasy about it and knew that it was better to not tense up.

Huh.

Suddenly, he felt a little lightheaded, the world slightly spinning even as he stayed still, his eyes focused on the cabinet door behind Haggar. He felt really tired, like if he closed his eyes, then he would just fall asleep.

That was weird.

Hey, wait a second. This felt familiar.

This was when he closed his eyes and woke up on the ground.

He wondered…

“Wait, what are you—”

Lance blinked a few times, looking up at Haggar, the nurse, and two unfamiliar faces from the floor.

Damn, his laundry load to do with hot water and bleach just got bigger.

The male nurse—who apparently had rushed in upon the nurse’s frantic call—helped him to his feet, depositing him back in the chair.

“Are you alright? What happened? How do you feel?” He asked.

“Er, a little dizzy, little shaky.” Lance said. “What happened?”

“You stood up before Helen could draw your blood, then you passed out,” The nurse explained.

“Ooh, I wondered if that would happen…” Lance mumbled.

“You… Did you…” Haggar said incredulously. “Did you feel like you were going to pass out, and stood up to see if you were going to pass out or not?”

“I had a hypothesis.” Lance said, accepting a cup of water from the other nurse.

“I have several hypotheses about you right now,” Haggar grumbled.

Lance stuck his arm out towards her. “You should probably draw my blood now…”

She did so, and at the same time one of the other nurses fastened a bright yellow band above the hospital bracelet he had been given when he first arrived. In bold letters, it read “FALL RISK”.

That, Lance thought, was fair.

The male nurse took over, and basically plopped Lance in a wheelchair the moment Haggar tapped gauze on his arm, taking him to a room and staying there until Lance changed into pajama pants and a hospital gown, and got into the waiting hospital bed.

Keith and Hunk were allowed back at that point while the nurse went to get IV equipment, and Keith arched an eyebrow at the bright yellow band.

“What happened?” Keith demanded, picking up Lance’s wrist to look at the band.

“I might, uh, have passed out. Again.” Lance said sheepishly.

“Dude…” Hunk said, shaking his head. 

“At least it was with medical professionals nearby this time.” Lance said defensively.

“Speaking of medical professionals,” Hunk said, settling down in a chair. “Your mom’s on her way. I’m gonna head out when she gets here.”

Lance’s heart sank a little and guilt flooded him.

It was his mom’s day off. As a nurse with nine kids to clothe, feed, and educate, she didn’t have many of those. But she was coming to where she worked today. Because of him.

After the nurse left again after placing Lance’s IV, a heart monitor, and a pulse oximeter, Lance turned to Keith and Hunk and said, “You’ll never guess who took my vitals. And my blood.”

“Couldn’t even begin to guess,” Keith said.

“Haggar.”

Both Keith and Hunk leaned forward in their chairs, eyes wide. “Haggar?”

“Yeah, but she’s calling herself Helen while doing her clinicals. And, get this, she’s hardly wearing any black. Her hair is what I think is her natural color. It was completely weird.”

“So, like, is she just adhering to the hospital dress code or something?” Hunk asked.

“Yeah, but, from what she told me, it’s also something she decided to do for her own professional image. Oh, and she made sure I didn’t say a word about her playing Quidditch.”

“Haggar loves Quidditch,” Keith said, frowning.

“Haggar loves throwing rubber balls at people in the name of sport,” Hunk corrected.

“Yeah, well, so do you and I, the three of us all play the same position.” Keith pointed out.

Hunk frowned and curled a finger around his chin. “What does this say about me?”

At that point, there was a knock on the door and Amrita—Lance’s mother—walked in and embraced her son, petting his hair and alternately kissing the top of his head and asking questions in Spanish. Lance answered all of her questions, and—satisfied—Amrita released him, only to turn to give Keith and Hunk hugs. Hunk made his a hi-and-bye hug, since he had class and the hospital had a rule of only two non-patients in an exam room at a time. 

After Hunk left, a doctor arrived and started asking questions about symptoms. Lance answered all of those, but couldn’t wait any longer and blurted out, “The doctor at Student Health said that a lot of my symptoms are linked to heart problems.”

“That’s right,” Doctor Keaton said. “But Dr. Darby also made a note that, other than going at a fast pace, your heart sounded healthy. We looked at the lab work he sent over from this morning, as well as the one from last week when you got your initial physical, and those all look fine. Obviously, we have our techs running more lab work right now and that should be ready shortly. I still want to run a short EKG monitoring session, and do a cardiogram. But I don’t want to focus on just your heart; doing that would mean we could miss other things. We’ll check your lungs to make sure you’re getting in enough oxygen. Could be narcolepsy. Could be anything, so we’re going to look at everything. For now, just sit tight and try not to worry too much. Do you mind if I examine you?”

Lance agreed and Amrita and Keith left the room, both rather begrudgingly. Dr. Keaton repeated many of the things Dr. Darby had, but also did certain checks, such as Lance’s reflexes and his lymph nodes, specifically under his arms and around his neck.

Dr. Keaton frowned slightly as his thumbs came to the base of Lance’s throat.

“Everything okay?” Lance asked nervously.

“Have you felt any discomfort in your neck or throat?” Dr. Keaton asked.

“No,” Lance said. 

But suddenly he had a flash of memory, of a few weeks before, curled up with Keith on the sofa in Keith’s apartment. They had been making-out, Keith’s hands trailing down from where it had been resting against Lance’s cheek, and then Keith paused, his hand in roughly the same spot as Dr. Keaton’s.

_“You’ve got a lump here,” Keith had said, frowning._

_“Duh,” Lance had responded. “It’s my Adam’s Apple, you goof. You’ve got one, too.”_

_“Huh,” Keith had said musingly, brow wrinkling. “Maybe it’s the angle. I thought it was higher up.”_

“Um,” Lance said. “But a few weeks ago, Keith—my boyfriend—he noticed that there was a lump right there. But we both thought it was just my Adam’s Apple… That’s what it is, right?”

“No. But I may have a better idea of what’s going on here. And, if I’m right, it’s not your heart, which is good,” Dr. Keaton said. “Hang tight, I’m going to have the lab run a different test on that bloodwork.”

He left and Keith and Amrita reentered.

“What did he say?” Keith asked, sitting at Lance’s feet on the bed.

“That he wanted the lab to do a different test on the blood they had drawn,” Lance said. He resisted the urge to put his own fingers at the base of his throat, to feel for the thing that Keith had noticed before and the thing that had sent Dr. Keaton practically flying out of the room.

It felt like an eternity later when he returned, another doctor in tow, who introduced herself as Dr. Brooks and explained that she was an endocrinologist. She asked Lance if she could perform the same examination of his neck as Dr. Keaton had.

“Odd question,” She said after that. “May I feel your hair?”

Lance was confused but agreed.

“Your hair is a little brittle,” Dr. Brooks said after she moved her hand back.

“Yeah, I lifeguarded and taught swim classes over the summer,” Lance explained. “Was in and out of the chlorinated water a lot and in the sun constantly. I think that’s why it’s like that.”

“Well, I think I have another explanation,” Dr. Brooks said. “The lab-work that Dr. Keaton ordered won’t be finished until tomorrow at least, but what we’re expecting them to say is that you have high levels of T-3 and T-4. Thyroid hormones. This would indicate—along with a swollen thyroid gland, weight loss, fatigue, difficulty sleeping, increased appetite, increased heart rate—that you have some form of hyperthyroidism, which is where your thyroid over produces hormones for various reasons.”

“What do you mean by ‘some form’?” Keith asked before Lance could even formulate a response to this new information. Honestly, it had been a while since he had taken general anatomy in high school and he couldn’t quite remember what exactly the thyroid does.

“There’s a few reasons why the thyroid is overproducing the hormones,” Dr. Brooks explained. “Graves Ophthalmology is one, but you don’t have any additional symptoms for that, nor family history. The thyroid could just be inflamed as the result of a virus. Or there could be small tumors on the thyroid. We won’t know until we do a scan.”

_Tumors._

There could be tumors.

Tumors were never a good thing.

“Why wouldn’t this have been picked up earlier, such as when he had his physical at Altea last week?” Amrita asked, brow furrowing.

“The thyroid hormone bloodwork isn’t something usually done unless ordered, as Dr. Keaton did,” Dr. Brooks explained. “Plus, the thyroid hasn’t swollen that much and is only noticeable to the touch, indicating that this is fairly recent. Given the time of year, some of the symptoms of hyperthyroid would have been overlooked anyway, such as sweating, being thirsty a lot, and sensitivity to heat. According to your file, you’re also ADHD but not medicated, so having problems focusing wouldn’t have been thought as unusual. Plus, hyperthyroid has a tendency to mimic other medical problems.”

“Exhibit A, we were about to run a whole bunch of tests on your heart,” Dr. Keaton added.

“Then why do I keep passing out?” Lance asked.

“Admittedly, that’s not something typical in thyroid patients, but I’m guessing it’s a culmination of the symptoms,” Dr. Brooks said. “Your body was having trouble keeping up with the changes, especially with your heart rate increasing and your body weight decreasing. Doesn’t help that two out of three times you were doing physical activity.”

“So, what now?” Lance asked.

“First, I want to do an ultrasound of your thyroid to get a better idea of what’s going on there. If the ultrasound reveals that there is nodules—which are small tumors of the noncancerous variety—I’ll do a fine needle aspiration to take samples of fluid within those. After that, we’ll decide what to do.” Dr. Brooks said. “Do you have any questions?”

_What if it is cancer? Is this something people die from? What the heck does having too much thyroid hormone mean? Does fine needle aspiration mean what I think it means, and by that, I mean you’re going to stick a needle into my throat?_

“No,” Lance said, shaking his head.

“Well, if you think of any, don’t hesitate to ask,” Dr. Brooks encouraged. “Also, it’s nearly lunchtime so if you’re hungry, go ahead and eat something, but nothing too heavy. Just in case our hunch is wrong and we have to start diagnosing from scratch, which means different procedures. Some of which don’t work well on a full stomach.”

Dr. Brooks left to book the ultrasound and said that she’d send a nurse to fetch him when it was time. Amrita crossed the room and pressed a kiss to Lance’s forehead.

“I’m going to call Papi, give him an update,” She said. She smiled and pointed her finger at Lance, then Keith. “Behave while I’m gone.”

“Yes, Mami,” Lance said, rolling his eyes slightly.

As soon as the door was closed, though, Keith crawled into the bed, carefully wrapping his arms around Lance and trying to avoid the equipment.

“Huh,” Keith said once he got comfortable. “So this is what it’s like to be on the other side of this hospital-bed-cuddle thing.”

“Yeah,” Lance mumbled, not looking at Keith. “Neither of us thought we’d be doing this song-and-dance routine again so soon.”

Keith frowned. “You’re scared. And that’s okay. You’re allowed to be.” He took Lance’s hand and squeezed it. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“But what if it’s not? What if this is actually something really horrible?” Lance demanded. “Like cancer or something else that means I’m going to die.”

He hadn’t meant for that to come out. Hadn’t meant to let that thought out. Never, ever wanted to verbalize that thought.

Keith was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “We’re all going to die eventually.”

Lance scowled.

_Ah, yes, here we have a prime specimen of the rare Keithius Kwanicus, Emois Maximus._

“Don’t give me that look,” Keith snapped slightly. “I’m right. We’re all eventually going to die. It’s a part of life. But I don’t think your life is anywhere near over, Lance. I won’t lie, I’m freaking out over this, too. I’m scared.” He hesitated, then said, “Look, you know what you told me last week? About how you were scared for me when I got sick, because you love me? That’s how I feel. Last night, when I saw you hit the ground, when you didn’t respond, when I got that phone-call this morning… I was so scared that I lost a part of my life. A big part of my life. Whatever this is, you’re not alone.”

Lance smiled and snuggled in against Keith. “Thanks. And I’m sorry that I scared you.”

They stayed still and quiet until Amrita re-entered the room. She smiled at them, then went over to her purse, pulling out some money. “Keith, _mi hijo_ , how about you go get us some lunch?”

“Aw, Mami, we just got comfortable,” Lance groaned.

Amrita narrowed her eyes some. “Yes, but I’d like for you and I to talk alone.”

Oh, there were never more terrifying words that could be spoken…

Keith, the dirty rotten traitor, kissed Lance on the top of the head and stood up. Amrita told him what kind of sandwich she wanted and offered suggestions for Lance, who decided on asking Keith to grab him an apple and some peanut butter crackers from a vending machine.

Once Keith was gone, Amrita sat down on the bed beside Lance. Neither said anything for a moment, then Lance said, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” His mother questioned.

Oh, let him count the ways…

“For not going to Student Health last night. For going to PT this morning. For scaring you and Papi and Keith and Hunk and everyone else. For not taking this seriously. For you having to come to the hospital on your one day off. For—”

“Lance, Lance, Lance,” Amrita said, grabbing his hands, looking him in the eye. “I do not want you to be sorry. I do, on the other hand, want you to take better care of yourself. You are typically the last one to admit that you are sick or in pain of any sort. We were lucky this time, that whatever is wrong will be found and treated before it’s too late. Your body knows something is wrong before you do, and you need to listen to and respect your body when it gives you warning signs. So promise me, _promise me_ , that you won’t do something like this again.”

Lance’s shoulders slumped and he nodded. “I promise.”

Amrita nodded and pulled him into a hug. “ _Gracias_.” 

And, this time, he would actually keep that promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so, first and foremost, I am a librarian who did as much research as possible on this... but is in no way, shape, or form a doctor so there's probably inaccuracies in here. However, I am somewhat familiar with thyroid diseases as my brother has hypothyroidism (where the thyroid doesn't naturally make enough thyroid hormones). Either way, having too much or too little thyroid hormones can seriously mess up your metabolism--and the rest of your health.
> 
> Find me at https://ninja-librarian.tumblr.com/


	5. Chapter 5

“He lives!” Matt exclaimed as he saw Lance, Keith and Shiro in the doorway. “Our favorite idiot lives!”

“You saw me Friday, you squeaky grocery cart with that one wheel that always spins out of control,” Lance retorted, rolling his eyes slightly as he dropped his backpack on the floor.

“What he means is, it’s good to see you on your own two feet,” Shay said, pulling Lance into a hug.

“Let’s keep it that way, got it?” Rolo said, smirking slightly.

“Oh, trust me, I got it,” Lance said, sitting down on his bed. “You are not the first person to make sure that I ‘got it’.”

“Nope, nope you are not,” Keith agreed as he nestled himself into the corner at the head of Lance’s bed, then tugged Lance towards him so that the back of Lance’s head rested on Keith’s shoulder, Lance’s back to Keith’s chest, Keith’s arms loose but secure around Lance’s waist.

After spending the night in the hospital Friday as a precaution, Lance had been released into the tender loving care of his family and Keith, who promptly confined him to the living room armchair and his bed until late Sunday afternoon when Shiro came to pick up Lance and Keith to return to Altea. Bella went above and beyond this particular call of duty and made it her mission to sit on Lance as much as she possibly could in order to keep him still. A weekend of rest, fluids and medication had come to pass and Lance was ready to get back to campus and prepare for a new week of classes.

“So,” Allura said, shifting slightly where she sat on the floor. “What did the doctors say?”

“The long and short of it is, my thyroid is all messed up because of these lumps on the gland,” Lance explained. He reached up and rubbed his neck, which still felt a little tender from where Dr. Brooks had found the nodules and withdrew fluid from them for analysis. “Dr. Brooks said that it’s not cancerous or anything, based on the lab report, but it’s still a problem since it sent me into hyperthyroid.”

“So, what are they going to do?” Pidge asked as she settled into Shiro’s lap where he sat on the floor.

“Anti-thyroid pills for now, and over fall break I may or may not turn into Spider-Man.” Lance said nonchalantly.

“You only become Spider-Man if you get bitten by a radioactive spider, dummy,” Keith said. “If the spider bites you while you’re radioactive, then the spider can transform into the insect superhero Man-Spider.”

“Wouldn’t the spider only turn into Man-Spider if I bit it?” Lance asked, twisting around to look at Keith, who frowned in consideration.

“Wait, back up, radioactive?” Nyma repeated. “Why are you going to be radioactive?”

“Dr. Brooks wants to give me radioactive iodine, and hopefully one dose will be enough to make these nodule things stop growing,” Lance explained.

“Right, so, note to self, avoid being around Lance during fall break, for he shall be radioactive,” Matt said with a nod.

“No, half the reason she wants to do it over fall break is so that I don’t have to be around a lot of people.” Lance said, shaking his head. “As soon of my last class before break if done, I’ll go get the dose and then go home, to be confined to the guest bedroom.”

“How long until the doctors would know if it worked or not?” Shiro asked.

“About a month later.” Lance answered.

“Quiznak,” Matt cursed. “I don’t want to wait until November to kick your ass for being so stupid.”

“Like you could kick my ass now, you expired coupon with too-small print!” Lance said.

“It’s true, Matt cannot kick Lance’s ass at any point in time,” Pidge said with a nod.

“Wow, thanks, sis, for all the love and support,” Matt drawled sarcastically.

“You’re quite welcome,” Pidge said, smirking. She turned to Lance and said, “However, that does not mean we cannot verbally berate you for being an absolute idiot and scaring the crap out of us.”

“Which brings us to our cause for gathering here tonight,” Hunk said, standing up and pulling out a cooler with two bottles of two-liter sodas and plastic cups. “To toast and roast. I’ve said my piece, I know Keith’s said his, now everyone else gets a turn.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Lance said with a nod. In addition to Hunk, Keith and his parents letting him know exactly how they felt about Lance running off to PT less than twelve hours after passing out and how dangerous it was, he had also been fussed at by all of his siblings, his older ones calling and Skyping to do so.

Soda was poured and so were feelings. Allura threatened to put him on a child leash and even whipped out her phone to show him a picture of the one she found online, telling him that he would get his choice of a teddy bear or a monkey. Rolo declared that Lance owed him a triple-shot latte because Hunk woke everyone up with a stream of panicked text messages way too early on Friday morning. Shiro broke out the “I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed” line, which everyone in the room agreed was a harsh punishment worse than death.

Then Slav got a chance to speak: “While I do agree unwise decisions were made, I think that this is one of those cases where a bad decision was ultimately one of the best decisions you could have made, Lance.”

“In another reality?” Lance asked, knowing the Pakistani student’s theories about alternate realities.

“No, in _this_ reality,” Slav said. “If you hadn’t broken your promise regarding physical training, then you may have gone weeks or months without any other major symptoms or issues. Instead, this disease was caught fairly early on, with a treatment plan already in place. I have already done the calculations about how much worse this could have been, and, believe me, you do not want to know those results.”

“Whoa.” Lance said in the quiet that followed. “You’re right. I had just had a physical from Student Health, too, to clear me for the Astronaut Program for the year. Dr. Darby didn’t catch that there was a problem then, not even when he felt around my thyroid…”

“The doctors said that testing thyroid hormone levels wasn’t something that is usually done with bloodwork,” Keith added, his grip around Lance’s waist tightening. “So there really was no other way of knowing there was a problem.” 

“Alright, I am now a little less mad,” Allura admitted. “But for that reason only.”

Eventually, the hour grew late and the threat of early morning classes loomed over their heads, and the group split up for the evening. But not before there was a semi-collective, “You’re not going to PT tomorrow, right?”

Lance assured everyone he wasn’t—he was told by Commander Palmer over e-mail that if he showed his face at PT at all in the next week without explicit written permission from a doctor that there would be hell to pay.

The next morning was one of the best Monday mornings Lance had ever had. He slept in; he got breakfast with Keith at The Castle Café; he talked to his mom on the phone as he walked to campus; he was not only on-time for his first class, he was early.

He was early enough that, to pass the time, he would check his school e-mail on his phone. Usually there wasn’t much there. E-mails from professors cancelling classes or sending out reminders for project due dates; info about fundraisers or other activities on campus; automatic e-mails to remind him that library books were due.

But that morning there was an e-mail from his advisor, with a subject line of “Availability for Meeting.”

He selected the message, skimming through where Dr. Shada asked to meet as soon as possible, as there was something they needed to discuss about the semester in relation to the diagnosis given by the hospital.

_Probably just paperwork or something they need me to sign,_ Lance thought, and quickly composed an e-mail asking if he could come over to Dr. Shada’s office between his first and second classes, as there was two hours between them. He tapped ‘send’ as his professor entered, then slid his phone back into his pocket, and didn’t give the e-mail another thought until he was leaving the classroom. The quick response of Dr. Shada didn’t concern him, confirming Lance’s next location to go to. Five minutes later, he was knocking on the astrophysics instructor’s door. He was beckoned to enter.

His heart jolted and he suddenly was filled with concern as he saw that there was more than just Dr. Shada inside the office. Commander Palmer. Dr. Ferguson, the head of the Astronaut Program. Dean Iverson…

“Come on in, have a seat,” Dr. Shada encouraged. “Coffee?”

“Er, no thank you,” Lance said as he sat down in the only available, suddenly wishing that he hadn’t put on a t-shirt with Spider-Man that morning.

“I’ve got tea, and hot chocolate, and apple cider mix…” Dr. Shada said, fussing with his hot drink station.

“I’m fine,” Lance said. “But, thanks.”

“Alright,” Dr. Shada said. “How are you feeling, by the way, Lance? That medicine they gave you doing what it’s supposed to?”

“I feel fine, thanks, but the doctors said it might take a week or two to feel like the medicine is making a difference.” Lance said, resisting the urge to start bobbing his leg up and down or do any sort of fidgeting that his brain was screaming at him to do.

“You’re delaying,” Dean Iverson commented to Dr. Shada.

Dr. Shada sighed and looked at Lance sadly. “We can either delay this conversation for a few more minutes, or we can do it now, like ripping off a band-aid. Which do you prefer?”

Hoo boy, that was not encouraging.

“Band-aid,” Lance said, though reluctantly. Whatever it was, he just wanted to get it done and over with.

What was the worst that could happen?

Nope, no, not asking that question.

Dr. Shada nodded and laced his fingers together. “Lance, I want to preface this with letting you know that you are a fantastic addition to the Astronaut Program. You’re a good student, with a good record. However, due to the recent diagnosis of the doctors at Sincline Memorial, we believe it is in your best interest to be temporarily suspended from the Program until we know for sure that the treatment works. Your classes and housing will all still be covered under your scholarship, and you can sit-in and observe activities in relation to astronaut training, just not partake. You cannot perform any live flight hours, but you can continue to log simulator time.”

“So, basically I’m just suspended from the physical stuff for the semester, then?” Lance asked. “Because I should know by November how well the treatment worked.”

“Ah, yes, well…” Dr. Shada said, glancing over at Dean Iverson, Commander Palmer and Dr. Ferguson. “The endocrinologist, Dr…” Dr. Shada glanced down at the file in front of him. “Ah, Dr. Brooks, she did tell you everything about this treatment and its success rate, correct?”

“She did,” Lance confirmed.

“And what happens if the treatment fails?” Commander Palmer asked.

Lance nodded. “But Dr. Brooks said that it was rare for someone to need a second radioactive iodine treatment, and even rarer to need a third.”

“And that it was possible for your condition to go from hyperthyroid to hypothyroid?” Dr. Ferguson asked.

Again, Lance nodded. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m following. Why is this relevant?”

“Because, McClain-Sanchez, your prognosis may determine your future in the program entirely,” Dean Iverson said.

Lance probably still needed that **FALL RISK** wristband because he nearly fell out of his chair. “What? How?”

“You underwent an intensely scrutinizing medical examination and testing prior to being fully admitted into the program, and your family medical history was also analyzed.” Commander Palmer said. “And why was that, Cadet?”

Lance suddenly felt light-headed. “Because we have to be free of any disease, especially long-term or chronic conditions, in order to be astronaut.”

That was when it sank in.

His treatment had a chance—however small—of failing. He had a chance of developing a disease where, instead of his thyroid overworking, it just stopped working. If his thyroid stopped working, then he would have to take medication every day for the rest of his life. Heck, there was a chance he’d have to take medication the rest of his life if his thyroid didn’t heal as it was supposed to.

And if that happened…

His scholarship. His career goals. His dream. His life.

It’d all be gone…

“Essentially,” Dr. Shada said. “We brought you in today to inform you that while you are still technically in the Program, situations may arise in the spring that, well, prevent you from being reinstated. And that you may want to take the time between now and then to investigate financial options for the next semester and the remainder of your degree program if you wish to stay at Altea.”

Lance’s stomach churned. A good portion of the draw to the astronaut program was it’s full-ride scholarship. How his parents had been happy and proud of him for getting in, but also breathed a sigh of relief as he was the fifth of nine kids to go to college. He knew how much tuition was at Altea; there was no way he could come up with that much, even with scholarships. It would take a miracle to come up with enough money to pay for three more semesters worth of classes.

His friends were here. Keith was here. His team was here. His dream was here. He was so close, he couldn’t leave now…

No, wait a second…

“You said that my scholarship will still cover my fall classes,” Lance said, standing up without realizing it, grabbing hold of Dr. Shada’s desk, his backpack clattering to the floor. “When does the suspension go into effect?”

“Er, it won’t be finished processing until the end of the week,” Dr. Shada said, blinking at Lance with surprise.

“So after the suspension is in effect, the scholarship won’t cover anything additional? Like classes?”

“That is correct.”

“But if I added more classes now, like, right now, the scholarship would cover the new classes? And textbooks?”

“Um,” Dr. Shada glanced at Dean Iverson and Dr. Ferguson.

“Also correct,” Dean Iverson said, frowning slightly at Lance. “What are you—?”

Lance didn’t listen, he just snatched up his backpack and headed for the door, saying over his shoulder, “Unless you need me for anything else, I’ll be at the registrar’s office!”

He took off running.

If the system was going to screw him over, he was at least going to fight back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come check me out at: https://ninja-librarian.tumblr.com/


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for racism

Keith pushed open the door to the board room and Lacey looked up, smiling at him.

“Hey, Keith!” She said. “You’re early.”

“What kind of right-hand man would I be if I didn’t get here early to set up?” Keith asked, placing his bag on a chair.

“How’s your boyfriend?” Lacey asked.

Keith gave a brief summary of the weekend’s events, ending with, “Right now he’s fine, though. The doctors gave him some medicine to stay on for a while to even his thyroid hormones out.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” Lacey said. She glanced down at her planner and said, “Um, Keith? About Matt… Uh, does he… By any chance, is he single?”

Keith blinked in surprise. “Uh, yeah. Yeah he is. But, um… Er, that is, I think Brock has a crush on you?”

Lacey rolled her eyes. “I’m aware. I am trying to gently put him in the friend zone. I’m not interested in him, and I can assure you I am not the only girl on campus he is interested in. But Matt’s nice. And cute. Chatting with him was nice the other night, and he’s not full of himself like my ex and Brock are. Do you think he’d be at all interested?”

“I’ll talk to him,” Keith promised. “See how he feels. Then I’ll give him your number if he is.”

_Sorry, Brock, but Lacey’s made her choice._

Lacey smiled. “You’re the best, Keith.”

Shortly after, everyone else arrived for the meeting. While Lacey chatted with a few of the people who arrived, Keith pulled out his calendar and made a quick reminder for himself in the margins to talk to Matt about Lacey. However, he made the note in Korean as a way of practicing writing the language.

Keith had easily picked up Japanese while living with the Shiroganes and could speak and understand what was being said to him, and was fairly decent at reading the romanji and kanji forms of the language, but his weakness was writing out anything original in the language. It was the same with Korean, which was the language he was learning at Altea. He had decided that, if he was going to pay to learn a language in the name of getting through his gen ed requirements, then he might as well take the language that was connected to his heritage. Professor Lee, who taught Korean at Altea in addition to several advanced chemistry courses, had encouraged Keith to write using Hangul as much as possible.

He barely noticed the shadow behind him until the shadow spoke.

“Is that Chinese?”

Keith looked up at Brock, who was frowning down at Keith’s planner, covered with Hangul notes and doodles in regards to his class and work schedule, Quidditch commitments, and formal planning.

“It’s Korean,” Keith answered.

“What difference does it make?” Brock said with an arrogant sniff. “You Asians are all the same, anyway.”

Before Keith could respond, Brock went to take his seat, leaving Keith stunned and clenching a fist underneath the table, forcing himself to breath and not get punchy.

In that moment, Keith realized that, no, his initial assessment of Brock had been correct. He wasn’t shy or socially awkward. He was, in fact, a jerk. A racist jerk, at that.

For whatever reason, Brock did not like Keith.

But this was meeting number two out of who-knew-how-many would be necessary to plan this formal. And Brock was planning on intimidating Keith no matter what.

As far as Keith knew, he had done nothing to Brock except simply exist.

This was not good.

*****

After the meeting, still reeling from his conversation with Brock, Keith felt confused, and angry, frustrated, and hurt.

He was just glad that he and Lance had already planned on meeting up at Lance’s dorm that evening. He was in desperate need to vent. He knew without a doubt that Lance would be outraged, and maybe they could plan some diabolical revenge for a while before discussing actually logical solutions

Keith sighed and knocked on the door bearing Lance and Hunk’s name on it and got an “It’s unlocked!” from inside. He pushed open the door, letting himself in, dropping his backpack beside Lance’s.

Lance was seated at his desk, his gaze focused on a textbook. “Hang on, I’m almost done with this chapter.”

“Got it,” Keith said, sitting down on Lance’s bed. He frowned at the spread of textbooks and supplies there. Some of the books had stickers on them from the bookstore, and there were a lot more of them than Keith remembered for the classes Lance had—considering he had helped haul them from the dorm, to the hospital, to Lance’s house, and back to the dorm.

Keith jumped when Lance slammed the textbook shut and he leaned back in his chair, releasing a breath. Then Lance leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desktop and started massaging his temples with his fingertips, groaning.

“Lance?” Keith said, brow furrowing. “You feeling okay?”

“No…” Lance groaned.

“Do you need to lie down? Or eat something? Drink some water?” Keith asked, instantly on his feet and crossing over to Lance.

Lance shook his head, looking up at Keith, his eyes tired and sad. “I’ve not had a good afternoon…”

“What happened?” Keith asked, alarmed.

Lance heaved a sigh. “I may lose my scholarship and get kicked out of the Astronaut Program.”

Keith’s eyes widened. “What? Why?”

“I’ve been temporarily suspended until they know if the treatment for my thyroid is going to work or further quiznak it up,” Lance explained. “My scholarship will cover the entire semester, but after this week… Keith, I don’t know where I’m going to come up with the money to cover tuition in the spring.”

Keith jumped back slightly as Lance got to his feet, picking up the new textbooks, showing them to Keith. “I went to the registrar’s office right after I met with Dr. Shada. And Commander Palmer. And Dr. Ferguson. And Dean Iverson. Keith, it was awful. Sitting there, knowing something is wrong with all those important people staring at you and you don’t know why… My entire future in their hands…”

“Why did you go to the registrar’s office?” Keith asked as Lance began clearing up the mess he had made on his bed, organizing the books and supplies on his desk.

“I signed up for three more classes,” Lance explained, putting the books in some sort of order Keith didn’t understand. “All online ones. One covering the whole semester, one that runs until fall break, and one that runs from the end of fall break till end of the semester. I tried to sign up for one more, but the office of the registrar said that I was at the limit for credit hours.”

Keith blinked in surprise. “Lance… The maximum number of credit hours is twenty-one. How many classes is that?”

“Seven,” Lance answered.

“Isn’t that… Isn’t that a lot, though?” Keith asked, now concerned. “Given that your health isn’t too great at the moment?”

“My health is the reason I have to do this, Keith!” Lance yelled, throwing his hands in the air, whirling around, making Keith flinch slightly. “If my health gets worse, I lose my scholarship! I’ve got to take as many classes as I can while I’m still covered by the scholarship! Because if I’m losing my dream career, then I’m at least going to finish my degree! Because if I finish my degree, I’ll have a better chance of finding a job and that way I can actually afford my quiznaking bad health! But there’s no way I can afford a year and a half’s worth of tuition!”

Suddenly, Lance’s shoulders slumped and he buried his face in his hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just so stressed out about this… Even if I can get more shifts lifeguarding, the pool closes after Labor Day, which is next week. And the money I make during the summer and Christmas breaks isn’t anywhere near enough to cover textbooks let alone a single credit hour. And of course the only reason I haven’t been working a steady part-time job now is because the Astronaut Program didn’t allow it, since the program has so much extra work to begin with, so I’m being doubly screwed over here. Even if I find a job now and unless it pays me, like, a hundred bucks an hour, there’s no way I’ll earn enough for the spring semester… And there’s no way my parents could help me in any way…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Keith said, grabbing hold of Lance’s arm and guiding him to the bed, pulling Lance into his arms. “Shh, it’s okay. We’ll think of something. We’ll look at financial aid. Or maybe they’ll let you keep part of your scholarship, since you’re not losing it because of grades or cheating or anything like that. You said there’s no way your parents could help pay for a semester, but I know your dad is looking for people to help out on the farm…”

With his head against Keith’s shoulder, Lance sniffled and shook his head. “They’re already paying what insurance won’t cover for my hospital stay and the treatment in October. I know Papi would let me work for him, but I don’t want him to pay me. I know it’s a dumb pride thing, but I don’t want them to contribute to this, even if I’ve earned it. One of the reasons this program was so perfect was because they wouldn’t have to pay for anything for me at Altea. Money’s always been tight with nine kids. I wanted to do this so that they could be proud and happy and with reduced stress. My stupid thyroid didn’t get that memo… My own body hates me…”

Lance began to cry in earnest against Keith, who rocked him and made small shushing sounds, petting his hair and assuring him that everything would be alright.

Keith’s own problems didn’t seem that big, that daunting compared to Lance’s. He could handle what had been thrown at him.

He could handle one ignorant and rude quiznaker. He had before, and he would again.

 _I can handle this,_ Keith told himself later as he headed home. _One jerk isn’t going to be a problem that screw up the rest of my life. Not like Lance’s problem. I can handle this on my own…_


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Autumnal Equinox!

Even though he had nearly doubled his usual course load overnight, Lance knew he had to earn money and needed to start earning money soon. That was why, for the second morning in a row, he made his first stop of the day The Castle Café.

Founded by Allura’s late mother, the Café was managed by Altea’s engineering professor, Alfor Arus, though Allura was usually in charge of most of the day-to-day upkeep. All hiring decisions, however, went through Alfor.

Lance got to the Café just in time, too, because Alfor and Coran were both there, helping Allura open for the morning.

Lance quickly explained his dilemma and asked Alfor if there was any chance that he could be hired. The white-haired professor shook his head sadly.

“I’m sorry, Lance, but we’re at full capacity employee-wise,” He said. “I can let you know if anyone quits, though.”

Lance nodded sadly. “I had to try, I guess.”

“You know,” Allura said from behind the counter. “I think I saw a ‘Now Hiring’ sign in the window of the restaurant we ate at last week. You should try to see if they’re still hiring. ”

“That’s a good idea,” Lance said. “Thanks, Allura.”

“Let me make you a to-go coffee,” Allura said. “On the house.”

“You are a goddess amongst women, Allura Arus,” Lance told her, leaning back in his chair.

“I know,” Allura said smugly as she started pouring milk in a pitcher for steaming.

Behind the counter, Coran glanced at Allura preparing Lance’s drink, then at Lance, leaning over the counter. “Lance, you mentioned over the summer that you swam competitively in high school. Was that for your school or for a club?”

Lance nodded. “For the high school. Won a few medals, too.”

“Freestyle, backstroke, butterfly, breaststroke?” Coran prompted.

“Freestyle and backstroke,” Lance answered. “I did relay and individual events.”

“Ah, interesting,” Coran said, nodding. “What was your position in the relay events?”

“Anchor.”

Coran’s bushy ginger eyebrows raised. “Impressive. Do you still swim regularly?”

“As often as I can,” Lance said. “I try to go to the campus pool at least once a week. Plus, life-guarding and I usually teach a few beginner swim classes over the summer.”

“Perhaps you should come by to one of the swim team’s practices,” Coran said casually, twiddling with his mustache. “Do some racing.”

“Yeah, I think the swim team would kick my butt,” Lance said, getting out of his chair as Allura put his coffee on the counter. “But I do miss the competitive stuff. So. Maybe. Guess it depends on how this finding a job thing works out.”

“Well, I hope it does. I hope everything works out,” Coran said, straightening. “Best of luck to you, lad.”

“Thanks,” Lance said. “And thanks again, Allura.”

“Anytime,” Allura said.

Lance waved at them, then headed out the door and back towards campus.

It wasn’t the best start to the day, but with a free coffee, it was slightly okay.

*****

Keith sighed slightly as he watched a student walk away with a stack of books almost as tall as she was. “Don’t see that too often this early into the semester,” He commented to his co-worker, Veronica, who laughed and adjusted her glasses.

“Some people aren’t as well versed in the art of pulling all-nighters like you are, Keith.”

Working at the campus library was one of the best jobs he could have ever had. It was fairly quiet, the pay and hours were good, he was allowed to read and study while on the desk, listen to music while he shelved.

At that point, several more students approached—carrying much smaller stacks of books, thankfully.

Keith checked out another student, then looked up to beckon over the next student. “Next!”

To his surprise, it was Brock who was next. But he didn’t even move, didn’t seem to acknowledge Keith.

“I can help you down here!” Keith said, waving him over.

Brock didn’t move, to the annoyance of the students behind him.

 _Does he have earbuds in or something?_ Keith wondered.

Raising his voice slightly, he called, “Brock, I can check out your books down here!”

Veronica finished with the student she was helping, and as soon as the other girl walked away, Brock walked up to Veronica, which seemed to suit the guy behind him just fine as he dumped his stack of books in front of Keith.

Veronica and Keith, behind the desk, exchanged a confused look.

Keith quickly checked out the guy in front of him, then—seeing Brock walking towards the library doors—called out, “Brock!”

Still, the guy ignored him and walked away, leaving Keith to sit back in his chair with a huff.

“What did you do to that guy?” Veronica asked.

“Simple. Keith’s on the Quidditch team and Brock’s on the football team.”

Both Keith and Veronica jumped at Bex’s presence, not hearing or seeing her approach.

“What do you mean?” Keith asked her.

“I mean, apparently your teams are sworn enemies,” Bex said as she handed Keith her library card.

“That’s news to me,” Keith said as he scanned her card. “Do you know why?”

Bex nodded. “Apparently, the football team was promised more funding last year. But then the Quidditch team has done better than any of the other sport teams. And because Altea will be hosting a major tournament in the near future for Quidditch, the board recently decided to split the funding between the football team and the Quidditch team. Supposed to be the best of both worlds: they’re not breaking their promise to the football team, while actually rewarding the people who can get the ball down field and score.”

“And you know all this how?” Veronica asked.

“My roommate’s boyfriend is on the football team,” Bex explained as Keith tucked her receipt into the top book. “She threw a fit when I told her that I was joining the Quidditch team and has refused to speak to me for the last five days.”

“I’m sorry,” Keith said.

“Don’t be,” Bex said, grabbing her stack of books. She grinned. “I’ve been enjoying the quiet.”

“Ah. Well. Okay then.” Keith said. “See you Thursday, then?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Bex said. “See ya.”

“Wait, so, that was the guy you were telling me about? The definitely-racist, maybe-homophobe?” Veronica asked. She frowned. “Keith, this is not good…”

“Don’t worry about it, V,” Keith said, resting his elbows on the counter. “I’ve got it under control.”

Veronica’s frown deepened. “If you say so…”

*****

The rest of the week seemed to blur together between classes and training shifts at the Mexican restaurant. But finally, on a beautiful Saturday morning, it was time for Quidditch.

“Witches, Wizards, and Muggles of all ages, let me welcome you to the first Quidditch match of the season here at Altea University!” Mitsu Shirogane—Shiro and Keith’s younger sister—said into her microphone, drawing big cheers from her crowd. “Please give a round of applause for our fearsome Lions!”

The Altean fans practically roared in support.

“Now give it up for our away team, Olkari University!” Mitsu said. The crowd appropriately cheered. “We’ll have the starting line-ups ready for you in a minute, folks, but for now I’m going to turn it over to my co-host, Slav, and let him give you some stats for both teams.”

As Slav prattled on about numbers and statistics and key players, Shiro approached Lance where he was stretching.

“Can we talk?” Shiro said. “Alone?”

Lance’s brow furrowed with confusion, but he nodded and the two stepped away from where the rest of the team was warming up.

Shiro took a deep breath and said, “Lance… Look, I don’t know the best way to say this.”

Lance’s heart sank and stomach churned, pulse thundering in his ears at how this conversation eerily echoed the one in Dr. Shada’s office. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing bad,” Shiro said quickly. “And it’s just for today.”

“What’s just for today?” Lance asked. “Don’t dance around this, Shiro. Just tell me.”

“Okay, okay,” Shiro said soothingly. He took another deep breath and said, “I’m benching you. I’m going to have Kim be the Seeker today.”

Lance blinked and stared down at his feet. “Oh.”

“Look, it’s nothing personal, but given recent events…”

“You don’t trust me.”

The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“Because I broke that dumb promise to not go to PT,” He followed.

“No, Lance, I do trust you. This isn’t about that,” Shiro assured him. “Well, to some extent it is. You haven’t been on this new medication for more than a few days, and I just don’t want you to pass out on the pitch. That’s all. Next week, next match, you will definitely play. I promise. Depending on how today goes, maybe it’ll be as a Seeker, maybe it won’t. I just don’t want to see you getting hurt.”

Lance nodded vaguely and walked away without another word.

Shiro hadn’t wanted him to get hurt. Unfortunately, ‘hurt’ was all Lance felt.

Lance forced a smile as he saw Bella running up to him, decked out in her pale blue tutu, a white t-shirt with Altea’s logo, and a blue and white bow in her hair. Lance held his arms out for her to jump into and she almost did, then she hesitated.

“Should you be picking me up?” She asked cautiously.

“Of course I should be picking you up!” Lance exclaimed, making her giggle as he swooped her up and tossed her in the air, catching her. “You weigh practically nothing! “

He held her close for a moment, then Bella wiggled in his arms, grinning.

“I came to tell you good luck!” She said.

Lance’s smile slid. “Ah, thanks, _Belleza_ , but Shiro just told me I’m not Seeker today.”

Bella’s eyes widened slightly. “You’re not?” She exclaimed. “But, you’re like, the best in the entire universe!”

Gotta love the hero worship of little sisters.

“Well, it’s nice to let someone else have a turn, especially since we have a lot of new players now,” Lance told her. He didn’t want to worry her by telling her the real reason. “It’s fine. Sorry you all came out for nothing, though.”

“Not for nothing!” Bella argued. “We want to hear Mitsu’s commentary, and cheer for the team!” She paused, looked over her shoulder, then back up at Lance, grinning widely again. “Can I sit with you, Lance? Please? Pretty please?”

Lance smiled and said, “Gotta ask Shiro first. He’s the boss.”

Bella nodded and wiggled out of Lance’s arms, rushing over to Shiro and throwing her arms around his waist. Lance couldn’t help but chuckle at the captain’s surprise—especially as Shiro was talking with Olkari’s co-captain, Ryner, at the time and didn’t see her coming at all. But Shiro smiled and nodded at her, chuckling slightly at Bella’s small happy dance before she dashed back over to Lance.

“Shiro said yes!” She exclaimed.

A few minutes later, the whistle blew and…

“And they’re off!” Mitsu announced gleefully. “The Quaffle is taken immediately by Allura Arus of Altea, pass to Pidge Holt, pass to Josh—OH! Oh, tough luck buddy, that had to hurt!”

Sure enough, Josh was picking himself off the ground from a Bludger hit and making his way back to hoops.

Lance was keeping an eye on the match and an eye on Bella—who was standing on the bench, cheering as loud as she could—and hardly noticed when Kim sat down next to him, her broom on her lap.

“Hey,” She said awkwardly, fiddling slightly with the yellow headband she wore.

“Oh, hey, Kim,” Lance said, turning to the girl.

“Um,” Kim said, looking down at her broom. “Look, this is kind of awkward, but, uh, Shay suggested I talk to you. Since you’ve been a Seeker longer than I have. And that you might have some tips about how to catch the Snitch Runner. Jace? Is that his name?”

“Thace,” Lance corrected. “Awesome dude, attends Marmora. He’s a great Snitch, but there’s a few things you should know. First and foremost is, nine times out of ten, he plans ahead to do something very sneaky, very elaborate, and something very unexpected. The problem with that is, he usually lets one aspect of his guard down and you just have to find out what that is in order to grab the Snitch.”

“Can you give an example?” Kim asked.

Lance did, fond memories of Quidditch matches returning as he did so. He gave Kim pointers and tips and suggestions, and she seemed to soak in every single word.

Finally, it was time for the Snitch’s release and the moment of truth.

And as Lance watched her go to the touchline along with Olkari’s Seeker, the pang returned to Lance’s chest. The desire to be on the field. How had Shay survived a whole season on the sidelines like this after busting up her knee?

“Ooh, what a fine shot by Jeremy of Altea!” Mitsu declared over the microphone. “What a fine-looking man, too, am I right?”

“HE’S TOO OLD FOR YOU!” Shiro yelled at Mitsu from Altea’s hoops, drawing laughter from the audience.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mitsu said dismissively, waving her hand. “Ugh. Older brothers. You know what I mean, Slav?”

“No,” Slav said. “I have much more experience with younger brothers.” Bitterly, he added, “ _Those_ are the ones you have to watch out for.”

Lance frowned at that, both as a younger brother and in confusion. He was pretty sure that Slav had two sisters, one older and one younger. So where was this coming from?

Distracted, he didn’t even see the play that resulted in the whistle blowing. But it wasn’t a goal.

Kim stood on the field, the Snitch held high above her head, grinning broadly. The Altean fans roared and cheered.

Altea had won their first match of the season!

Lance grinned and clapped and whooped, swinging Bella around.

But it wasn’t until later that what had happened had fully sunk in.

As glad as he was that Altea won, that Kim had a successful first match as a Seeker, it also made him feel sad and hollow.

He could easily be kicked out of the Astronaut Program. And he could easily be replaced on the Quidditch Pitch.

What else could he possibly lose?

*****

“You approach the mysterious haunted castle with caution. You find a bridge across the moat, leading you directly to the open door.” Matt said from behind his DM screen.

“Let me guess,” Hunk said, narrowing his eyes across the table at Matt. “It’s booby trapped.”

“Right you are, Block!” Matt said, smirking. “Pike, please roll for Search.”

There wasn’t the sound of the dice hitting the table. Keith frowned and looked over at Lance beside him, nudging him slightly. “Hey. It’s your roll.”

“Hmm?” Lance mumbled, looking up slightly. “What?”

“Hey, you okay?” Pidge asked, frowning. “You feeling sick?”

“No,” Lance said, leaning back in his chair. “Just… Lot on my mind. That’s all.”

“Are you sure?” Allura asked. “You’ve been rather quiet tonight.”

Keith gently put his hand on Lance’s knee. “If you’re not feeling well, we can call it a night.”

“No,” Lance said again, firmly this time. “I’m just distracted, okay? That happens. Meanwhile, our Druid’s been on his phone all night and no one’s said a word about that.”

“I’m not texting anyone!” Slav yelled, slamming his hands on the table, eyes wide, glasses askew.

“Calm down, Slav,” Shiro said. “And no one said a word about texting.”

“Oh,” Slav said, sliding back down into his chair, adjusting his glasses. “My mistake. Carry on.”

“Right,” Lance said, picking up his blue and silver D20. “Okay, so, you said roll for Search, right?”

“Hang on a minute,” Keith said, grabbing Lance’s wrist. “If you’ve got something on your mind, you can just tell us. Not mope around.”

“You’re one to talk about moping, Mr. Emo,” Lance snapped. “Just forget about it.”

“It’s obviously something that’s bothering you,” Pidge said, grabbing a handful of Oreos to add to her plate. “Is it school? Something at your new job?”

“No,” Lance said. Then he frowned. “Yes. Kind of. Look, I’ve got it. It’s nothing.”

“Then what is it?” Matt asked.

Whatever Keith was expecting to come out of Lance’s mouth, it would have definitely have been less shocking.

“I want to quit the Quidditch team.”

The said members of the Quidditch team stared at him in shock for a moment, then everyone began to speak at once.

“Are you insane?” Pidge demanded.

“Why the quiznak would you do that?” Allura asked.

“Is this because I benched you today?” Shiro asked with concern.

“Is it because of school and the job?” Hunk asked.

“What?” Keith said, blinking as if that would clear up any confusion he had.

Lance… quit the team?

“I just don’t see a reason to stick around this season,” Lance said, not looking at anyone. “We’ve got plenty of players, Kim is a superb Seeker, I’m taking extra classes and working... It’s the right decision.”

“Yeah, but quitting?” Hunk said. He shook his head. “No. The Lance I know isn’t a quitter.”

“It’s just for the season,” Lance said. “If things get sorted out in the spring, maybe I’ll rejoin.”

“You balanced Quidditch with schoolwork and the Astronaut Program,” Allura pointed out.

“Yeah, when my body could actually function right, too,” Lance said, irritation coloring his voice. “Something has to give.”

“Which is fine, and fair, and healthy even. But when were you going to say something?” Shiro asked.

Lance shrugged. “I don’t know. Not on _Monsters and Mana_ night, that’s for sure. I had just started really thinking about it this afternoon, after the match.”

Shiro frowned, but said, “Can we bargain?”

“I don’t think there’s anything to haggle over here, Shiro.” Lance said.

“No, but… A compromise? You can be a reserve this season. You don’t have to make it to all the practices, or even all the matches—though I know I speak for everyone when I say that we’d like you to be able to attend as many as possible, even if you want to sit the games out. Or if you want to play, I can’t guarantee you’d be the Seeker but you can still have field time. It’s not technically quitting, but it’s less responsibility.”

Keith stared at Lance as he mulled it over.

Then, slowly, Lance nodded. “Okay, fine. Deal.”

Keith breathed a sigh of relief.

Lance wasn’t quitting.

 _But,_ Keith noticed. _He doesn’t look happy either._

He took Lance’s hand, giving it a small squeeze, then leaned over and pressed a kiss to Lance’s cheek.

Initiating public displays of affection was rare for Keith, and usually more Lance’s thing. However, Lance had told him before that he loved it whenever Keith surprised him like that. That the little touches, the kisses, they were all the more special because of the rarity.

So, just as Keith hoped, a small smile crossed Lance’s face as he squeezed Keith’s hand back.

Well, it’s a start, at the very least.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally was about to post this chapter well over a month ago... and then my hard drive crashed.
> 
> Always back up your work, folks. It'll save you much time and heartache.

Keith had been surprised but pleased when the e-mail arrived from Nadia.

When Keith was young and his mother Sunny was still alive, Sunny was part of the main cast of a popular show called VOLTRON. The show was an educational science-focused program that taught kids a lot of science basics, how to do experiments at home or school, and helped keep kids, parents and teachers up-to-date on the science world. Sunny, Nadia, Ina, James, and Ryan all led segments on different focuses of science. So Sunny led segments on astronomy, while Nadia led segments on physics, Ina on chemistry, James on biology and Ryan on earth studies.

Though Keith was often at school or baby-sat by Haha during filming, Keith also frequently got to visit the set to either just hang out or to be on camera to help demonstrate some of the experiments. He had particularly fond memories of the time he helped Ina make slime.

Ina and Ryan, both of whom are autistic, had played a large role in Keith and Sunny’s life after Keith was diagnosed with autism as Sunny wanted Keith to be around older autistic role models, but James and Nadia quickly came to play a large role too. Keith’s first visit to the set had been slightly overwhelming and he clung to Sunny and was shy, but he had been enthralled when Nadia asked him to kid-test one of the experiments she was going to do on the show. It was a simple catapult made out of popsicle sticks and a soda bottle cap that tossed cotton balls, but Keith loved it. That was when James, who had been watching the entire time, suggested Keith come and be one of Nadia’s assistants when it was time to do the experiment on the show, something Nadia quickly agreed with him on and Keith begged his mother to let him do.

He was close with his mother’s former co-workers and kept in touch often. Nadia, Ryan, James and Ina always sent him birthday and Christmas cards, or would stop by to visit him on the way to conferences, or would call or e-mail from time to time to check up on Keith. But the last time he had seen all four of them together was right after he graduated high school, having agreed to a small, intimate party to celebrate.

So Keith hadn’t hesitated to e-mail back, suggesting a time and place. A week later, he was walking into The Castle Café, grinning as Nadia rushed over, arms out for a hug.

“Oh my God!” She exclaimed, embracing Keith. “You’ve gotten so tall! How can you be so tall?”

“Maybe Keith’s not getting taller, you’re just getting shorter, Nadia,” Ryan joked.

Nadia, like the mature adult she was, stuck her tongue out at him, which made Ina laugh.

“It’s good to see you, kiddo,” James said as Keith sat down. “Girl behind the counter said that she knows your usual, and will bring it out.”

Keith glanced over to where Nyma was behind the counter. “Thanks, Nyma!”

She grinned and gave him a thumbs-up in response.

“Keith’s not that much of a ‘kiddo’ anymore,” Nadia said with a sigh. “Why’d you have to grow up and go to college and make us feel old, huh, Keith?”

“Sorry,” Keith said.

“You don’t have to apologize for Nadia feeling old. She went to her Alma Mater last month and they had added a Starbucks in the library. You should have seen her outrage and recounting how strict the librarians were if they so much brought in a bottle of water and a granola bar.” Ryan said. “It was rather amusing. Wish we had recorded it.”

“Enough about Nadia being old,” Ina said, waving her hand, ignoring Nadia’s cry of outrage. “How are classes? How’s Quidditch? And how’s the boyfriend?”

“She’s mostly interested in the answer to that last question,” James said with a laugh.

“You two have been dating for over a year now and we haven’t met him and intimidated him yet,” Ina said.

Keith chuckled. “Classes are great, and my advisor wants to take me to a professional conference over fall-break. Quidditch is just getting started for the season but we’ve already got a win, and Lance is fine. He had class or else he’d come. And he doesn’t need intimidated.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling Ina and Nadia,” Ryan commented. “He’s met your mother. That woman is terrifying.”

Keith didn’t know why people thought of Haha as scary. After all, she was the nicest, sweetest, most maternal woman on the face of the planet.

Well… there is the fact that she has an Olympic gold medal in Judo on display in her living room.

And there was the time she threw a grizzly bear…

And that one time at Pride with the other bear…

“So, what’s brought all four of you to this neck of the woods?” Keith asked. “A conference?”

“Business,” James answered.

“At Altea? Or Galra Tech?” Keith asked.

Ryan shook his head. “We have business with you.”

Keith’s brow furrowed. “Me? You mean checking in on me?”

“Well, yes, but also, we had a few things we wanted to run by you,” Ina explained. She took a deep breath, a sip of coffee, then said, “How would you feel if we rebooted VOLTRON?”

Keith was surprised by the question. “Are you going to reboot the show?” He asked.

“Well, we’ve been given a rather nice offer,” Nadia explained. She smiled sadly and added, “We’ve been given several nice offers throughout the years. But, without Sunny… It didn’t feel right, so we turned them all down.”

“But when we got this newest offer, we started wondering if we were actually doing a disservice to her memory,” James added. “And that doing another show would be a better way to honor her and her goals. Especially since she loved getting kids interested in science and STEM fields, especially young girls. But we wanted to make sure that you didn’t feel otherwise.”

“And we also wanted you to know that neither us nor the studio has any plans to replace your mother’s role on the show,” Ryan added. “We’d bring in guest astronomers from time to time, but nothing permanent.”

“I think it’d be great,” Keith said, grinning. “And you’re right, mom would love it. She loved VOLTRON and everything that came with it, especially you guys. She would love to know that you’re carrying on the show. You should do it. For her, for you, for the original purpose of the show. Yeah. Take the offer.”

“That’s the other piece of business,” Ryan said. “If we reboot, that means that you’re affected, because all of your mom’s royalty checks would be impacted by the availability of newer, more up-to-date content.”

After Keith’s mother died, everyone had been surprised to learn that Sunny had created a will, leaving Keith a fairly hefty trust fund and savings account. However, due to increasing concerns regarding Keith’s biological father trying to obtain custody of Keith, she added a stipulation that neither trust fund nor savings account could be accessed until Keith had turned eighteen, with one exception being that Keith was undergoing a medical emergency that was not covered by insurance.

After turning eighteen, Keith had been stunned and terrified by the amount, not sure what to do with it. Fortunately, Chichi had helped guide him through the process, most of the amount going towards funding Keith’s college education.

“I’ve got enough left in my savings account to cover tuition, plus I have a job to go towards rent and food and stuff,” Keith said. “Go ahead and sign away; I’ll be fine.”

“Well, we didn’t want to do that just yet,” Nadia said. “So we told the studio that we’d sign on two conditions, the first being that we have your approval so, condition met.”

“As for the second,” Ina said. “How would you like to design and develop a website with games to go along with the new show? You’d get paid, of course, in addition to having some rather nice padding for your resume.”

Keith’s mouth dropped open, his eyes wide. “Would I—? Yes! Are you for real? Yes, I’d love to do that!”

“I told you he’d say yes,” James said with a laugh.

“I’ll get started right away!” Keith proclaimed. “I won’t let you down!”

“You never have, and you never will, Keith,” Nadia told him.

Keith was so excited, his brain already concocting many ideas, that he didn’t have any idea that there was someone else listening in on their conversation.

*****

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go up with you?” Hunk asked again. “Because I don’t mind going up there with you.”

Lance resisted the urge to heave a huge sigh, considering this was the fifth time they were having this conversation. “No, Hunk. Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be fine and it’s more of a motivation to go in to see the vampires if I know I have a Big Mac, fries, and shake waiting for me when I’m done.”

“We can still grab McDonald’s after,” Hunk argued even as he turned on his blinker to pull into the drop-off lane in front of the hospital.

“You have class and I have work soon, we have no guarantee that you’d even find a parking spot, I get in and the paperwork done in time, and get through the drive-thru in enough time,” Lance pointed out. “Seriously. I’m going to be fine.”

“You passed out the last time you had blood drawn,” Hunk pointed out.

“Technically,” Lance said, undoing his seat belt. “I passed out before my blood was drawn.”

“Schematics.”

Lance rolled his eyes and got out of the car. “I’ll see you in a bit, and call you if I need anything.”

“Okay,” Hunk said reluctantly, waiting until Lance was inside the hospital before driving away.

Lance headed up to the lab on the second floor, signed in, and fortunately didn’t have to suffer the bad eighties decorating style of the waiting room for too long before being called back. He was led to a room that held a chair similar to a dentist’s chair that could recline, a cabinet, a sink, a rolling stool and a few waiting chairs. He was told to sit down and asked if he would mind if a student took his blood draw.

He said he didn’t mind, though he hadn’t expected lightning to strike twice when the technician and the student entered the room a moment later.

“This is Helen—” The technician started to say, but was cut off by Lance and Haggar saying simultaneously,

“We’ve met.”

“Oh,” The technician said awkwardly.

“I don’t mind if she draws my blood,” Lance added.

“I don’t either, so long as you don’t pass out on me this time,” Haggar said, grinning wickedly at him.

Like before, Haggar began by taking Lance’s blood pressure.

“It’s a little high,” She commented with some concern.

“I’m a little concerned about making it to work on time and get an essay done,” Lance said, trying to brush it off. “Just the usual.”

“But hypertension is a secondary symptom of hyperthyroidism,” The technician said, frowning. “The medication should be evening out your blood pressure. If the medication you are currently taking isn’t taking care of your thyroid—or is, but not taking care of the blood pressure issue—then you may need an additional medication.”

Lance tried hard not to grimace at that thought, but definitely did grimace when the technician advised he have his blood pressure checked again at student health.

_Great,_ he thought. _Just one more thing to do…_

After washing her hands, Haggar grabbed a pair of gloves. Well, half a pair of gloves, as there was only one left in the box.

“I’ll go grab a new box of gloves,” The technician said, going for the door. “Be right back.”

As the door clicked closed, Lance and Haggar were left in momentary silence.

“So, it’s your thyroid?” Haggar said conversationally.

“Yep,” Lance replied. “Doc’s going to make me radioactive to see if that can fix it. If not, well, then I’m taking medication every day for the rest of my life basically.”

Haggar nodded. “My aunt has hypothyroidism,” She explained. “She takes medication every day. It’s crazy, though, how one little gland can screw up someone’s body and health.”

Lance scoffed. “Forget health, try whole life.”

“Well, there is that too,” Haggar conceded. “So, where are you working now? Is it a work study thing?”

“I wish,” Lance said. “I’m waiting tables at La Rosita.”

Haggar frowned. “I thought your fancy-schmancy astronaut program didn’t let you work off campus. Or at all, really.”

“Well, I can do whatever I want while I’m suspended from the program,” Lance said, a bit bitterly.

“You got suspended? What did you—” Haggar cut herself off realization coloring her face. “Oh. One little gland…”

“And a whole life looking rather ruined. Yeah.”

“That sucks,” Haggar said, scowling. “Seriously. That’s not fair.” Then she tilted her head. “Is that why you weren’t at the last Quidditch match? Altea won’t let you play either?”

This struck a nerve in Lance. Not that Haggar knew about the last Quidditch match—Galra Tech routinely went to Altea’s matches, as Altea was now considered the largest competition—but the mentioning of Quidditch at all.

“No,” Lance snapped. “I’m allowed to play, but I’m a reserve this season. I chose that. Because it came down to playing Quidditch or having money to even attend school next year.”

Haggar stared at him for a long moment, then let out a deep sigh. “Being an adult sucks, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Totally overrated. I wanna go back to kindergarten.”

“Life was much easier with juice boxes, naptime, and being able to spend hours looking for lizards.”

“Yeah—wait. You were a lizard hunting kid?”

Haggar grinned suddenly. “If you’re good and don’t squirm, I’ll show you photos of my iguana. His name’s Norbert.”

“Norbert? Like the dragon from…?”

“Yep, just like the dragon from _Harry Potter_.”

Lance thought that Norbert the Iguana would get along perfectly with Shiro’s cat, Captain Jean-Luc Purr-Card. If only because they could both sigh over the names given to them by nerdy humans.

“That’s cool. So does he live with your parents or…?”

“Nope. He lives with me.”

Lance frowned. “So, you have an apartment?”

Haggar’s grin grew again. “I still live in the dorms.”

Lance decided that the less he knew the better. Still, he said, “Sure, I’d love to see pictures of Norbert.”

Thus, after being entertained with pictures of an iguana—most of Haggar’s pictures consisting of said iguana being dressed up in a rather dapper fashion—Lance left the office feeling a bit better than when he arrived.

“You’re in a much better mood,” Hunk commented as Lance got in the car.

“You would be, too, if you were shown photos of a lizard wearing a wizard’s hat that was captioned ‘You’re a lizard, Harry’.” Lance said, pulling out his food out of the bag. He also took out his phone and followed Haggar on Instagram, where most of her photos of Norbert the Iguana were. “Plus, sorry, I can admit I was a little hangry.”

“Well, no more hangry in this car,” Hunk declared. “Eat.”

“Yes, sir,” Lance said through a mouthful of fries, giving Hunk a salute with his phone still in his hand.

He could do this; he could get through three more months of uncertainty.

He just wasn’t sure he could handle what might come after.


	9. Chapter 9

Keith grinned as he handed Lacey a folded up piece of paper. She frowned as she accepted it.

“What’s this?” She asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Keith said airily. “Just Matt’s phone number.”

Lacey beamed and she squealed. “Keith, you are the best! I want to hug you! Can I hug you?”

Keith nodded and Lacey threw her arms around him, then squealed again, dancing in place as she looked at the paper in her hands.

“Should I text him first or call?” She asked, biting her lip. “Now or tonight?”

“Text,” Keith suggested. “And now. He doesn’t have class for another hour and a half.”

“Perfect, because that’s how long our shift is here,” Lacey said, sitting back down in her folding chair beside the table. They were on the campus green outside of the library, a box of tickets for the dance ready to be sold.

“Does this mean you’re officially open for business?” Shiro asked as he approached, Pidge at his side.

“We are!” Keith said, opening the box with the tickets. “Two tickets?”

“Four, actually,” Pidge said. “A friend asked us to get tickets for him.”

“Do I know this friend?” Keith asked as he took the money from Shiro, giving him four tickets in exchange.

“You do,” Shiro confirmed. “But we’ve already told you too much for his preference.”

“That’s not vague and cryptic at all,” Keith said sarcastically.

“I thought you lived for cryptic,” Shiro teased.

“Not _cryptic_ , _cryptids_ ,” Keith intoned.

“Sometimes the same thing,” Pidge said with a shrug. “Later.”

Keith waved good-bye to his friends, but didn’t get much time to ponder what had just happened as someone else came up purchase tickets.

The shift passed quickly, with lots of tickets being purchased by students to Lacey’s joy.

Keith was performing a transaction with a pair of overly-excited freshman girls, and didn’t notice right away that his replacement was there.

“You can put your bags under the table when Keith’s done,” Lacey told the pair of volunteers.

Keith closed the money box and moved out of the way… only to come face to face with Brock.

“Hey,” Keith said casually.

Brock said nothing in response, though the other volunteer—a computer science major named Susan—greeted him and Lacey cheerily.

“How was everything this morning?” Susan asked as Keith moved out of Brock’s way, trying to be the bigger man in the situation even though Brock really could have waited an extra thirty seconds for Keith to retrieve his own bag from under the table.

“We’ve sold over a hundred tickets already!” Lacey said excitedly. “Way more than I was expecting!”

“A lot of people said that they marked their calendars for today, thanks to your social media posts, Susan,” Keith told her, which made Susan beam.

“Thanks,” She said. “And I love the design of the tickets, Keith. You did a great job. I especially love the little Leo the Lion wearing a bow tie. _So_ cute!”

“Ah, it was nothing,” Keith said with a shrug. “Simple doodle, that’s all.”

“Uh, as someone who can barely draw a stick figure, that is not a simple doodle,” Lacey said. To Susan, she added, “You know he’s the one who designed the Altea Quidditch logo, too?”

“No way!” Susan exclaimed, her eyes wide. “That logo looks so professional, almost like the school’s official art. I would never have guessed… Did you go to one of those schools for the arts in high school, Keith?”

“Nope,” Keith said. “Self-taught through YouTube and pretty much every art book from the library.”

Truth was, Keith had applied for an arts college but didn’t get in. He almost entirely overlooked Altea’s acceptance letter, but decided to enroll when his brother Shinji pointed out that Theo Goldstein was heading up a new video game design department.

“It’s amazing… Hey, when all of this winds down, think you could design a logo for the debate team? We can pay you, we have some discretionary funds in our budget.” Susan said.

“Yeah, sure, I’d love to,” Keith said. “You talk about it with the team, come up with some ideas, and I’ll present some of my past work if you’d like. When you tell me what you want, I’ll do a couple of preliminary sketches to see what fits best.”

“I’m going to email the captain and the treasurer right now,” Susan said, nodding.

“Hey,” Lance said, approaching the table. He gave Keith a smile, which Keith returned, trying hard not to notice the dark circles under Lance’s eyes. “You ready?”

“Yeah, let me grab my bag,” Keith said, pulling out his messenger bag from underneath the table, slinging the strap over his head. He waved goodbye to Lacey, Susan and Brock, getting waves back from the two girls.

Keith seized Lance’s hand with his as they walked towards Student Health. Though Lance had made it clear he was grumpy about the entire thing, he was now supposed to report to Student Health twice a week to check in on his blood pressure. Keith hadn’t gone with him two days before, but knew that the results had been high and Lance had been grumpy—which probably wasn’t helping his current predicament at all.

“How are you feeling?” Keith asked.

Lance huffed a sigh. “Okay, I guess. I feel like this isn’t necessary. Needless fuss and a waste of time.”

Keith squeezed Lance’s hand. “It’s not. It’s making sure you’re okay. To me, that will never be a waste of time.”

“Well, I feel like it is,” Lance said. “I’d rather be studying. Or working on my essay. But thanks for coming with me, since I know there’s a whole bunch of other stuff you could be doing instead, too.”

“It’s time with you,” Keith pointed out. “We’ve hardly seen each other the last three weeks.”

It was true, and Keith was trying hard not to feel hurt by it. He kept making suggestions for a date night, or any time together, but Lance was always either working or finishing projects or studying for tests. Keith missed Lance a lot, but did his best to support Lance as he worked hard.

“I’m sorry,” Lance said, looking guilty. “I promise, next weekend we’ll do something together. Movie night or something.”

“Saturday night, then?” Keith asked, knowing that Friday night would be spent at Bella’s ballet performance.

“Can we do Sunday after I get off? I’ve got to work Saturday night.”

“Sure.”

They were silent for a moment as they entered the student health building. Lance signed in with the receptionist, who said that a nurse would call him back in a moment. Keith and Lance sat down in a pair of chairs and almost immediately Lance laid his head on Keith’s shoulder.

“You okay?” Keith asked, watching Lance’s eyes close.

“Hmmm,” Lance hummed. “Just resting. Trying to relax.” He was quiet for a moment, then said, “Keith? Thanks for coming with me. I feel a little less stressed with you around.”

Keith smiled. “Glad to be here.”

Keith was so certain that Lance was nearly asleep when the nurse came to call his name.

“Want me to come back with you?” Keith asked as Lance stood up, stretching and yawning out of his catnap.

“Nah. I’ll be back there for, like, two minutes,” Lance said. “Be right back.”

As Keith watched the door close behind Lance and the nurse, he reached into his bag. He initially was looking for his phone, but then he frowned, looking at the contents of his bag.

His sketchbook.

Where was his sketchbook?

Keith never left home without his sketchbook.

_Don’t panic,_ he told himself. _You may have just left it on your desk at home…_

Except he so distinctly remembered grabbing it that morning. Because he always left his phone on top to charge so he didn’t forget either of them in the morning. And there was his phone…

Keith held his bag close to his chest, heart thudding.

Where was his sketchbook? Had it fallen out of his bag?

He needed his sketchbook. It had designs for school projects, the dance, and ideas he had started for the VOLTRON website.

That was several weeks’ worth of work unaccounted for.

He heard his phone beep with an incoming text from an unknown.

That’s right, he put his name and phone number in his sketchbook. If someone found it, then they might contact him to return it.

He quickly unlocked his phone to look at the text…

His thudding heart jolted.

Because it was a photo of his sketchbook, being held by Brock.

His phone dinged again. **You want this back?**

Keith hadn’t even processed the message when his phone dinged again. **Meet me at 4 PM on the quad if you do.**

Dread and realization settled into Keith’s gut.

Brock had stolen his sketchbook. Must have done so when he put his own bag underneath the table, while Keith was talking with Lacey and Susan.

While Keith was _literally standing right there_.

His phone dinged again. **Or are you chicken?**

Keith frowned and typed a response.

**I’ll be there.**

*****

Lance’s brow furrowed as the nurse started to leave the small room. After all, the last time he had done this the same nurse who called him back took his blood pressure.

“Uh, ma’am?” He said awkwardly.

The nurse turned back and said, “Sorry, I forgot. Dr. Darby wanted to check in on you, so he said that he’d take your blood pressure today. He’ll be back here in just a moment so hang tight, okay?”

Lance nodded, sitting down in the provided chair. He immediately started tapping his toes then pushed both hands down on his knee to stop himself.

He was just going to get himself wound up. The more he focused on not getting his foot to tap, the less he’d get stressed and think too much. He knew that if he started tapping his foot, he’d get lost in his own head.

Unfortunately, he was so focused he didn’t hear the door reopen again and Dr. Darby ask, “Lance, is your knee bothering you?”

“Uh, no,” Lance said, removing his hands, his face hot. He hoped Dr. Darby wasn’t going to take his temperature, too. Could being really embarrassed affect your temperature? He’d have to ask Allura. He started rolling up his sleeve. “The nurse said you were going to check my blood pressure?”

“Yes, but I also want to check on you,” Dr. Darby said, sitting across from Lance. “You’re still my patient, you know.”

“Yeah, but I might not be for long,” Lance said bitterly before he could stop himself. He winced and said, “I mean—”

But Dr. Darby nodded. “I’m aware of the stakes. And the pressure you’re under. You have to make a lot of tough decisions at a young age. Heck, they’d be hard decisions at my age. Which is why I’m concerned about you. Your blood pressure has been high, and you took on some extra classes and a job. Combined with the health issues, that is a lot of physical and mental stress. But what are you doing to unwind? Are you still playing Quidditch?”

“I’m a reserve this season,” Lance said, jaw tightening some. “Something had to give.”

Dr. Darby frowned. “Yes, but you shouldn’t give up on the things that allow you to spend time with your friends. And the exercise is healthy, too.”

“I still see my friends,” Lance said. “We play Monsters and Mana together every other Saturday night.”

Granted, he hadn’t been to the last two sessions because he had been working… But Dr. Darby didn’t need to know that.

“And I’m spending time with my boyfriend,” Lance added.

Granted, he was fairly sure that the walk over here was the longest time they had spent together in the last week… But Dr. Darby didn’t need to know that, either.

“Good, good,” Dr. Darby said, nodding. “And you understand your latest bloodwork?”

“Yes,” Lance said, hoping that the answer would make Dr. Darby drop that particular topic.

Because Dr. Brooks had called him and explained it to him. Said that the numbers still weren’t as low as she hoped they would be by this point. Because she had concerns that he wasn’t getting a high enough dose.

Because there were some days Lance couldn’t remember if he actually took his anti-thyroid medicine or not.

Taking pills weren’t part of his routine before. He needed routine and structure and his entire routine had been thrown off course without any chance to adjust. Some nights he stumbled back into the dorm after the library kicked him out and slept until it was time to go to class. There were some mornings he was rushing so much he didn’t even get a chance to eat or get a cup of coffee. Then there were some mornings he stared at the pill bottle, begging his brain to remember if he had already taken the pill or not, and deciding to be safe than sorry and not run the risk of taking two in one day.

He was trying. Did that count for anything?

Dr. Darby seemed satisfied and took Lance’s blood pressure, noting that it was still a little high but not as much as it had been. Just a little over the norm wouldn’t hurt.

Lance left feeling relieved but also somewhat tenser than he had when he first arrived.

*****

Four o’clock came and Keith was leaning against a tree in the middle of the quad, looking around for Brock. He still had zero idea what Brock wanted, but he didn’t particularly care as long as he got his sketchbook back.

After what felt like a lifetime, Brock finally appeared, smirking slightly. Keith frowned.

“You ready to tell me why you stole my sketchbook?” Keith demanded.

“Nope,” Brock said, popping the ‘p’ slightly.

Keith scowled. “Fine. You going to give it back then?”

Brock’s grin grew. “No.”

Keith felt his hands curl into fists. “It’s mine. You stole it. Give. It. Back.”

“It’s your word against mine, Kwan,” Brock said, eyes gleaming. “And, really, you’re too old to tattle.”

Keith grit his teeth. Too old to tattle or not, there wasn’t anyone to tattle to.

“What do you want?” Keith demanded. “What do I have to do to get it back?”

“Oh, simple. I want you to fight me for it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Brock stepped closer, invading Keith’s personal space. “I want you to fight me. Punch me, kick me, whatever. I want you to fight me for it. You win, you get your stupid book. I win, well, it’s mine.”

“There’s got to be a catch.”

“No. Just one testosterone-fueled tussle and it’s yours.” Brock smirked. “I mean, I can understand how that might be difficult for you…”

Keith stood up straighter at the implication. “I’m in.”

Looking back, Keith didn’t remember that much about this fight.

He didn’t remember who threw the first punch.

He didn’t remember who hit the ground first.

He didn’t remember what words were said.

He didn’t remember who technically won the fight.

He just knew he lost the battle.

He knew when he saw Brock’s smirk even as he was pinned on the ground.

He knew when campus security pulled the two apart.

He knew when they were both dragged to Dean Iverson’s office.

He knew as he couldn’t make his voice work, couldn’t bring himself to defend his actions as Brock said he didn’t know why Keith attacked him, pinning the blame entirely on Keith. Keith’s eyes remained on the floor, silently shaking with fury.

He knew as the Dean yelled at both of them, banning them both from their respective sports for two matches, of all non-academic activities. Neither were fit to represent the school in any capacity.

He knew as he shakily left the office, dismissed and disgraced, that he had been set-up. Tricked. Trapped.

And he knew that he still didn’t have his sketchbook back.

This last thing he knew on a most painful level as he went to his motorcycle and found one of his sketches, torn out and drawn upon in Sharpie (God, he hated the smell of Sharpies, hated hated hated hated), taped to the handlebars.

Slurs and crude drawings covered his sketch in black ink. Permanent.

The paper crinkled in Keith’s hands as he balled the paper up.

He’d been taken for a fool.

*****

Mitsu stood at the doorway, frowning. “Mom says breakfast is ready.”

“Not hungry.” Keith grumbled from where hid under the covers of his old bed. He had slept over at the Shiroganes’ house the night before, neither of his parents asking what happened that he arrived in such a state that he silently climbed into bed without a word. Not that he actually slept.

He hadn’t wanted to go to his apartment, where Shiro was. Because Shiro being there was a painful reminder of what had happened. Shiro lived for Quidditch, and the match this weekend and the one the next weekend were important.

He already had seen the angry texts from Lacey, who had been informed from the Dean himself of Keith’s suspension, how she needed him, was counting on him.

He had let her down.

He was going to let Shiro down.

He had let himself down, taken advantage of by Brock.

Mitsu huffed and came into the room, sitting on the foot of the bed, bouncing slightly on the mattress. “You can’t stay in here forever.”

“I can try.”

“Shiro said the same when we he was in the hospital and wanted all the doctors and stuff to leave him alone,” She pointed out. “We lured him out with a kitten and _Harry Potter_. I’m prepared to repeat that method.”

“You may have to revise your methodology.”

“I’m thinking a puppy.” She said, gently poking at his legs with her fingertip. “And photos of a new Bigfoot sighting.”

“Do you have photos from a new Bigfoot sighting?”

“Not exactly, but I do have pictures of my friend Nate on the field trip to the National Forest last week. He’s huge and really hairy. He wears, like, size thirteen shoes. That counts, right?”

Keith had to chuckle and emerged from his blanket cocoon slightly. “Yeah, no. Sorry.”

“It was worth a shot,” Mitsu said with a shrug. “Now, seriously, if you don’t want to eat, fine, but at least come get a cup of tea so Haha can stop—”

She was cut off by the sound of the front door opening and Shiro yelling, “KEITH!”

Keith exchanged a glance with Mitsu, who looked just as surprised to hear their brother’s voice. Keith got out of bed and Mitsu followed him to the top of the stairs, where Shiro was arguing in Japanese with their parents. Then Shiro caught sight of Keith.

“You!” He snapped, pointing at Keith. “Didn’t come home last night. I thought you were dead in a ditch or comatose in a hospital or kidnapped. I’ve been up half the night looking for you. And you—” He whirled on his parents. “—knew he was here, had me text and call several times, and you couldn’t tell me that he was here?”

“ _He needed his rest_ ,” Okaa-San said huffily in Japanese.

“ _Keith also implied that he did not wish for anyone to know he was here_ ,” Otou-San added calmly. “ _We did tell you that you shouldn’t worry, that Keith would be fine_.”

“ _Obviously, it was not effective_ ,” Shiro retorted. He glared up at Keith. “Get down here so I can either hug you or strangle you. I’ll decide which by the time you get here.”

Keith did so, slowly, to give Shiro enough time to decide. By the time he hesitantly was standing in front of Shiro, a lot of the tension and anger in Shiro’s expression had dissipated and he offered his arms for a hug, which Keith gladly accepted.

“You should have called me,” Shiro told him.

“I know,” Keith admitted.

“Dean Iverson e-mailed me about your suspension.”

Keith sighed. “I know…”

“Want to tell me what happened?”

“ _In the kitchen_ ,” Okaa-San instructed. “ _Eat. Breakfast is getting cold_.”

So over breakfast Keith explained. Partially. He explained that Brock tricked him into fighting him, which garnered frustration and anger and a bit of sympathy from his audience. He left out the parts about how Brock stole his sketchbook for several reasons—one, because it was bad enough that he was suspended, they didn’t need Shiro to follow suit by going to annihilate Brock; two, because there wasn’t anything any of them could do; and three, because he was supposed to be an adult, and therefore should solve his own problems. However, he could tell that this adopted parents had swayed over to Shiro’s side when Keith mentioned having a shut-down between the fight, the campus security, and the experience in Dean Iverson’s office.

“Driving a motorcycle is dangerous enough in a good mental state,” Otou-San said a bit sharply. “Forget a motorcycle, just driving or riding a bike could have been dangerous if you are too upset to properly focus on the road. You are an adult and can make your own decisions, Keith, but it would have been better for you to have called or texted one of us instead. We’re lucky Takashi didn’t find you in a ditch or in a hospital.”

“I know,” Keith admitted. “It was irresponsible. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out, Shiro.”

“I get it. I’ve been there,” Shiro said. “It’s just extra-curricular suspension? Not academic?”

“Yeah,” Keith said. He glanced at the clock and sighed. “Probably shouldn’t push it, though. I’ve got an hour until my first class.”

“Go get changed and grab your stuff,” Shiro said. He glanced at Mitsu. “Want a ride to school? It’s on the way.”

Mitsu grinned. “No bus? Yes please.”

Keith grabbed his dishes and put them at the sink, kissing Okaa-San on the cheek and saying, “Itadakimasu” before heading upstairs.

In the car, he plugged his dead phone into the charger, wincing at the amount of missed calls and texts. Shiro had already sent out a group “He’s fine” text to the group, but still it was hard seeing how badly he had scared his friends. And Lance, who left several voicemails and worried texts.

Keith huffed a sigh and threw his head back against the headrest. He had really messed up this time.

And he didn’t know how to fix it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I wrote an original novel back in 2017, and now I've uploaded it to Swoon Reads, where manuscripts that are read, rated, and reviewed are considered for traditional publication. The title is Bibliophile, and this is the link: https://swoonreads.com/m/bibliophile/. I hope you check it out!


	10. Chapter 10

Lance leaned back in his desk chair and rubbed his eyes, yawning. It wasn’t even six o’clock and he was already ready to crawl into bed. But this essay was almost done, was coming along a lot better than he thought it would.

That thought made him sit up again, grabbing his bottle of water and taking a drink. Hunk was out for the night, with Shay at a movie, and maybe if he got this essay done within the next hour he could ask Keith to come over. They could have a night in, with cuddles and pizza and Netflix and…

There was a knock at his dorm door. Frowning, Lance got up and went to the door, surprised to see Keith standing there, dressed nicely in dark jeans and a button-up shirt, a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

Lance struggled to recall their conversation from earlier in the week, when they had talked about going out on a date. He had said Sunday, right? Not Friday?

But before Lance could say anything, Keith’s brow furrowed as he took in Lance in his sweatpants and old swim team hoodie, holes in the toes of his socks. “Is… that really what you’re wearing?”

Lance frowned. He knew Keith was blunt and to-the-point, and never tried to sugar-coat anything but, wow, rude. Especially coming from the guy whose wardrobe largely consisted of black jeans and t-shirts.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly expecting company.” Lance said, folding his arms over his chest.

Keith’s frown deepened, then suddenly his eyebrows raised and he bit his lip. “Uh, Lance? Do you… Do you remember what tonight is?”

Lance’s brow furrowed, thinking. All he knew was that he somehow managed to get a Friday night off, and that it wasn’t even October so he knew it wasn’t Keith’s birthday yet, nor could he think of anything…

Lance sucked in a gasp, his eyes wide.

Oh no.

“Bella’s performance,” He whispered. He ran a hand through his hair, struggling to remember the last time he showered. “Quiznak. Quiznak, quiznak, quiznak. What time is it?”

“Six, the ballet doesn’t start for another hour, but it’s half an hour away, forty-five minutes if traffic is bad.” Keith answered. “We have time, it’s—”

Lance took a deep breath and yelled at the top of his lungs, then slammed the door to the dorm, frantically searching for clean, acceptable clothes, then continued to dig through looking for the envelope with their tickets, all while swearing profusely.

He dressed in record speed, pausing in front of the mirror to make sure he didn’t look rumpled, grimacing at the dark circles under his eyes, the stubble on his cheeks, and badly in need of a haircut. He huffed, then grabbed his phone, wallet and keys and opened the door, seeing Keith still standing there, looking up from his phone.

“I texted your mom and let her know we might be a little late, so they’d save us seats,” He told Lance.

If Lance didn’t think that that would cost them precious minutes, he would have kissed Keith then and there.

Lance followed Keith down to the parking lot, his gaze searching for Keith’s motorcycle. So it was a surprise when Keith walked up to Shiro’s car, unlocking it.

“Shiro said we could borrow it for the night,” Keith said, opening up the driver’s door.

Lance nodded vaguely, then, suddenly, walked around the front of the car, holding out his hand for the keys. “I’ll drive.”

In response, Keith shook his head and slid into the seat. That took Lance by surprise. Keith hated to drive, preferring his motorcycle. He once had explained it to Lance that it was mostly that he felt more control over the motorcycle. Plus, he liked that he could drive down the center of the road on the motorcycle, and didn’t like feeling off-center in the driver’s seat of a car. It was one of those perfectionist things, Keith had explained with a shrug.

Keith looked at Lance and said, “You’re not in a good mental state to drive. Get in, Lance.” With that, he closed the door

He sighed, but got in the car, unable to disagree.

The ride was quiet, and Lance tried hard not to have a panic attack over every red light and every time traffic was congested. He tried hard not to have a panic attack over his own forgetfulness. Of course he didn’t have a random Friday night off, he requested it off his first day of work, his boss handing him a planner and telling him to put down any dates he needed off.

How had he forgot about Bella’s performance? How had he not remembered to ask Hunk if he could borrow his car? How had he not remembered to pick up flowers, have an outfit laid out, get in contact with his parents about times and seats and other details?

Lance groaned and put his head in his hands.

“You okay?” Keith asked hesitantly.

“I’m such an idiot,” Lance answered. “I’m just a huge idiot.”

“You are not,” Keith said, enunciating every word.

“Then who, other than an idiot, forgets his own sister’s first professional-grade dance performance?”

“Someone who has a lot on their plate. Which you do.”

“Yeah, and I’ve got a big ol’ heaping of idiot right now on a king-size platter.”

“You are not an idiot,” Keith reiterated. “You forgot something, and that’s okay. That happens to everyone. Better to remember now and not tomorrow night, right?”

“Yeah,” Lance said, looking out the window with a huff, if only to avoid looking at the clock.

They finally arrived at the venue, and Keith drove up to the front of the building, telling Lance to go on inside, that he’d park the car and catch up.

This time, Lance did kiss Keith, thanking him in between kisses.

He ran into the lobby, handed over his ticket, then entered the theater, searching for familiar faces. Lance saw his family members, who took up two entire rows and waved him over.

“Hey, _hermanito_!” Roberto said, standing up from his seat and hugging Lance. “’Bout time you got here. Where’s Keith?”

“Parking the car, he’ll be in soon,” Lance said, returning the embrace with his eldest brother. “I’ll text him so he knows where we’re sitting. Hi, Angie.”

“Hi,” Roberto’s girlfriend said. “It’s good to see you, Lance. How have you been?”

“Oh, you know, same old, same old,” Lance said with a shrug before greeting his older twin sisters, Luisa and Maria, who were there with their respective partners.

Before greeting other relatives, Lance sent Keith a text, and as he lied through his teeth to both of his grandmothers that he was eating enough—and by doing so broke the eleventh, unwritten commandment: Thou Shalt Not Deceit Thine Grandmothers Regarding Food—when Keith arrived, slipping into the seat beside Lance right before the lights started to dim and a disembodied voice reminded the audience to silence their cellphones and that photography and videography were forbidden.

“Made it,” Keith breathed, grinning.

“Did you run from the parking lot?” Lance asked.

“Just the last few yards,” Keith said. “The guys in charge of the doors let me be the last person in.”

“Sorry,” Lance said, squeezing Keith’s hand. “You wouldn’t have had to do that if I had actually been ready on time.”

“It happens, don’t worry about it,” Keith told him, returning the squeeze.

But Lance did worry about it. It was what occupied his attention whenever Bella wasn’t on stage.

However, another thing gave Lance a cause for worry. That he couldn’t remember when he had dropped his head onto Keith’s shoulder. That he was surprised to hear the sound of applause from around him. That the curtain had closed for intermission and he couldn’t remember what part of the story they were at.

As people got up and milled about, chatting and going to stretch their legs, Lance got to his feet and went to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. He hadn’t realized that Keith had followed him until he offered him a paper towel.

“You okay?” Keith asked.

“I’m really out of it tonight,” Lance admitted, accepting the paper towels.

As he buried his face in the paper towels, he heard Keith take a deep inhale of oxygen, then,

“I already know the answer, but I’m gonna ask anyway. Do you want to go home?”

Lance lifted his face to narrow his eyes at Keith slightly.

Keith simply nodded. “Right. Cool. Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” Lance said, shaking his head, because it was the truth and because Keith had already done so much for him tonight.

They returned to the auditorium in silence. Lance was better able to follow along the ballet during the second act, and soon enough Cinderella and the Prince were married and he was following his family as they went to the stage door to collect Bella.

She came out, beaming, still with her flower crown on and a face full of make-up, but dressed in a sweat-shirt over her tights and leotard and wearing her sneakers.

“You were amazing, Belleza,” Lance told her as soon as he got his turn to hug her.

“Thanks!” Bella said, hugging him tightly. Her nose scrunched up slightly and she trailed her hand over Lance’s cheek. “Your face is all scratchy…”

“Uh, yeah,” Lance said sheepishly. “Trying to… uh, decide if No-Shave November is a good idea or not. Is that a vote for ‘not’?”

Abuelo McClain—Lance’s father’s father—chuckled and jovially clapped Lance on the shoulder, saying, “ _Nieto_ , you’re a McClain man! Our faces are too handsome to cover with a beard, no?”

“Abuelo, No-Shave November is for a good cause,” Luisa pointed out. “Men’s health awareness and stuff.”

“Can’t be that good of a cause if it means denying the world the most handsome faces in the world,” Abuelo McClain informed her.

Abuela McClain sighed and rolled her eyes, patting her husband on the arm. “How about we start heading back to the house for dinner? I’m sure our little ballerina is starving.”

Lance felt his stomach rumble. Bella wouldn’t be the only one starving.

While Amrita had been at work that morning, and Riel had been at the theater with Bella, the two sets of grandparents and some of the already-arrived older siblings had been hard at work preparing a feast for after the performance. There was so much food just waiting to be warmed up and served.

Lance didn’t really remember much of that dinner, but remembered the fake smiles he gave and excuses he made and how tired he felt by the end of it all but how determined he was to not show it.

He didn’t even remember falling asleep in the passenger seat of the car as Keith drove them back to campus. He did, however, vividly remember Keith half-dragging him up to his dorm room, and Keith kicking on the door until Hunk opened the door, and how he pretty much collapsed face-first onto his bed, how Hunk had loudly demanded to know if Lance was drunk or not. He remembered Keith pressing a kiss to his head, and then grabbing Keith’s hand before he could leave.

“Keith?” He mumbled. “Thank you. For everything tonight.”

Keith only gave him a small smile, and Lance hated himself for the worry and sadness he saw in Keith’s violet eyes. “You don’t have to thank me for anything.”

“Love you,” Lance told him, his voice already slurred with sleep.

“Love you, too. Goodnight.”

He slipped into the dreamless void of darkness known as sleep.

And hoped that the evening’s events had been nothing but a bad dream.

*****

“Oh.” Matt said, looking down at his Dungeon Master notebook. “Quiznak.”

Pidge groaned. “It’s got to be bad if even our DM thinks it is.”

“No, no, it’s not bad,” Matt said quickly. “It’s, just, uh… I need to make an adjustment or two.”

“What kind of adjustment?” Shay asked suspiciously.

“Well, uh, I just… need to adjust a few things otherwise the entire party is going to die prematurely,” Matt said sheepishly.

“You mean again?” Shiro said, frowning as he grabbed a handful of Cheetos. “Like we did last week? And the week before that? We can only be blessed by Miraculous Maximus who said that we could be revived because we were only ‘mostly dead’.”

“Look,” Matt said, pointing at Shiro with his pencil. “It’s not my fault I had set up some ah-mazing traps that require an ability to check for traps in order to recognize and defeat, only for our rogue to go off on his own ‘side-quest’ because he keeps ditching Monsters and Mana night!”

“Lay off of Lance,” Hunk snapped. “It’s not his fault he keeps having to work.”

“I’m not angry or anything, I get it, life stuff happens,” Matt said defensively.

Keith rolled his D-8 between his fingers, feeling the rounded points dig into his palm. He couldn’t stop thinking about the night before. About Lance. About how tired he was, how drained he was, how scattered he was.

“I’m worried about Lance,” He said out-loud, not looking at anyone.

The table grew quiet. Allura placed her hand on Keith’s arm.

“We are, too,” She said softly. “He hasn’t been himself lately, and we hardly see him anymore.”

“I’m more worried that he doesn’t seem to be getting better, and if he is, then all of the extra classes and work and stuff is counteracting it,” Pidge pointed out.

Hunk’s mouth twisted, just enough that Keith noticed.

“What?” He demanded.

“Nothing,” Hunk said quickly.

“No, you have something to add to Pidge’s observation,” Keith argued. “What is it?”

Hunk sighed. “Look, I wasn’t being nosy, okay? But we share a room and there’s some stuff that I can’t help but… observing.”

“Such as?” Shiro asked cautiously.

“Such as the fact that the other day I accidentally knocked over his bottles of meds. And I noticed that the bottle was a lot fuller than it should have been,” Hunk admitted.

“Was it a new bottle?” Matt asked. “A different strength prescription?”

Hunk’s eyes became a little more serious as he said, “You mean the prescription he picked up two days ago—and hasn’t even opened the bag yet? Still stapled shut as of when I left the dorm tonight?”

That made Keith sit up in his seat. He wasn’t the only one.

“You don’t think Lance is taking his medicine?” Shiro asked with alarm.

Hunk nodded. “And I don’t know how to talk to him about it without it becoming a mess. Him getting angry and defensive and telling me to butt out and such. I’m hoping it’s a fluke, since I only really noticed it today.”

“Still, that is concerning,” Allura said, frowning.

“And I agree with Hunk, talking to Lance about this in the wrong way could make the situation worse,” Shiro said with a scowl. To Hunk, he said, “Just… keep an eye on him. Maybe you’re right, it is a fluke. But if it’s not…”

If not…

Keith did not want to think about that.

But, unfortunately, he did. All the way home, all the way through his evening routine, and he knew that it would result in a sleepless night.

As he was putting his cellphone on the charger, he saw he had a text he hadn’t noticed before.

To his surprise, it was from Lance’s mom.

**Hey, Keith. Are you free tomorrow to have lunch?**

He knew then that he wasn’t the only one with concerns about Lance.

Keith responded without a second of hesitation.

**Yes. What time and where?**


	11. Chapter 11

Keith glanced down at his phone again, trying hard not to look out of place in the hospital cafeteria as he waited for Amrita. Against his better judgement, he started to scrutinize his text history with Lance over the last few hours.

**Here Comes Dat (Lover) Boi: Keith, I need to be the worst boyfriend ever.**

**Me: That’s not ominous at all…**

**Here Comes Dat (Lover) Boi: One of the waitresses is out sick with food poisoning. My boss asked if I could cover her shift tonight.**

**Here Comes Dat (Lover) Boi: I know we have plans…**

**Here Comes Dat (Lover) Boi: I can tell him no.**

**Me: Lance, its fine. Stuff happens, and you need to help your boss out. We didn’t have anything exactly set in stone. Maybe tomorrow night instead?**

**Here Comes Dat (Lover) Boi: Yeah. I’m sorry, though.**

**Me: You don’t have to apologize.**

That last text had been left on ‘read’.

Keith sighed and put his phone back in his pocket, straightening when he saw Amrita enter the cafeteria. She smiled at Keith as she approached.

“Sorry I’m late,” She said. “But I had a feeling you and everyone else would have preferred I change scrubs before coming in here.”

“Perils of being in the emergency room?” Keith asked.

Amrita shrugged. “Perils of the profession. Always a chance of bodily fluids ruining your outfit. Now let’s get some food, I’m starving.”

They got their food and found a table along the windows that looked over the hospital garden. As Keith picked up his sandwich, he said, “So… I get the feeling I know what you want to talk about. Lance.”

Amrita nodded sadly. “I’m worried about him. Riel and I both are. When we saw him on Friday he just seemed… off. I suggested talking to you. You see him more than we do, and you could give us a better idea of how he’s doing with the school work load and his health.”

Keith set down his sandwich and took a drink of water. He sat quietly, thinking long and hard about what to say and how to say it.

“Lance… I feel like I hardly see him anymore. But every time I do, he seems tired. And distracted. And anxious. Friday night wasn’t an exception. And as for his health…”

Keith gave a condensed version of his conversation with his teammates the night before, regarding their concern as to whether or not Lance was actually taking his medication.

Amrita nodded grimly and sighed. “I was worried about that. It takes Lance so long to develop a routine, and when it’s deviated, and that abruptly…” She shook her head and sighed again. “I just don’t know what to do. How to help him.”

“I don’t even know if he wants help,” Keith told her. “Because every time he does get help, whether he asks for it or not, he always acts like he’s inconvenienced that person. Almost guilty. And it makes him ask for help even less.”

“That stubborn boy,” Amrita huffed.

“He’s just not… dealing well.” Keith said. “I get it. The astronaut program is his dream. It’s been his dream for a long time. And now he might have to lose that dream, along with everything that comes with it.”

“The scholarship,” Amrita said knowingly. She leaned back in her seat some. “I remember the day he told me he wanted to be an astronaut. He was about nine years old then. I told him he would have to work hard in school go to a good college and get lots of scholarships. I hadn’t expected him to take me so seriously, or to go ahead and start researching colleges. I had only been hoping it’d be motivation to pull his grades up—he was not the best student at that time. Maria and Luisa were big into vision boards at that time, and they helped Lance make one.”

“I’ve seen it,” Keith said, thinking fondly of the poster-board with cut-out rockets and glitter and nine-year-old messy handwriting. Lance had shown it to him once before when they were over at his parents’ house. He couldn’t remember what had led up to Lance pulling it out from underneath the bed, but he did remember how he could imagine little Lance carefully gluing every piece into place, thinking that it was such a great representation of Lance both then and now and, he suspected, in the future.

Amrita nodded. “Since then, he was dedicated to making that vision board a reality. Everything he did in school was to build up to the moment that would make or break his dream. His acceptance letter from Altea. So I do understand why this has been so hard for him. He’s dedicated so much of his life to his goal. Something I thought he would change by the next month—declare he wanted to be a firefighter or doctor or actor. But he stuck with it.

“That stubborn boy,” Keith said, smiling as he repeated Amrita’s earlier statement.

Amrita smiled. “That he is. And, although I know he got most of that from me, I do wish he was a little less stubborn somedays.” Her smile drooped some. “Especially when it came to Altea. There’s more than one way to become an astronaut, more than one school that could make that dream possible.”

“Right,” Keith said, confused.

Amrita hesitated, then said, “Lance was given several offers to swim at other colleges. They were back-up options; not bad ones, either. I just wish we had known then what we do now. Maybe that would have taken so much of the stress off of Lance.”

_But then Lance wouldn’t have come to Altea,_ Keith thought to himself, not wanting to state the obvious. _And we’d never know each other…_

A pang hit Keith in the chest.

He was glad that Lance had turned down those other offers.

Did that mean he was glad that Lance was miserable now? Did that mean he was glad if Lance wished he had made a different decision?

Amrita shook her head. “I’m sorry. It’s not healthy to dwell on ‘what ifs’. I just wish I knew what I could do to help my son.”

“I do, too,” Keith whispered, his guilt increasing by the millisecond. “I do, too…”

*****                

Keith sat on the couch, scrolling through notes on his laptop and petting Captain Purr-Card, not really absorbing any of the information he was looking at. He couldn’t stop thinking about his conversation with Amrita that afternoon. Couldn’t stop worrying about Lance. Couldn’t stop thinking about that brief, traitorous beat of happiness that he had had.

The front door opened and in walked Shiro and Pidge, each carrying large paper bags.

“Hey, Keith!” Shiro said as he kicked off his shoes. “We brought dinner!”

Keith closed up his laptop and set it aside as Shiro and Pidge unpacked the Chinese takeout and handed him his serving and a pair of chopsticks. However, he didn’t start eating immediately, instead listlessly poking at the noodles in the container.

“Keith?” Pidge said, her brow furrowed. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith lied.

Shiro frowned slightly. “I thought I got your favorite.”

“You did,” Keith said, truthfully this time.

“If you don’t want Chinese tonight, that’s fine, we can get you something else,” Shiro offered.

“No, it’s just…” Keith heaved a sigh and set the take-out on the coffee table, picking up Captain Purr-Card and holding the cat close. “Am I a bad person?”

Pidge and Shiro stared at him for a moment, then exchanged what Keith could only describe as a trademark ‘worried parent’ look, which Keith thought meant well for any future kids these two might have. They were so in synch, he watched as they set down their chopsticks simultaneously.

“Keith,” Pidge said cautiously. “What happened?”

“Did someone say that you’re a bad person?” Shiro asked, his voice and face barely withholding anger.

“No,” Keith said. “Well… I met with Lance’s mom this afternoon. We’re both worried about him.”

“Which is a thing good people do,” Pidge interrupted. “Because you’re not a bad person.”

Keith scoffed. “You might want to reconsider that. Because she told me that Lance turned down a whole bunch of swim scholarships to come to Altea.”

Pidge and Shiro exchanged a confused glance.

“Okay?” Pidge said, her voice trailing slightly.

“I’m not understanding the correlation,” Shiro told him.

“The correlation is that Lance is miserable and he might not be if he had taken one of those scholarships. And I’m happy that he didn’t take a swim scholarship, because none of them were at Altea. I’m happy that something horrible has happened to someone else, that they made a wrong decision. So therefore, I am a horrible person and boyfriend.”

With a huff, he slumped back against the couch.

Shiro shook his head and resumed eating. “So let me get this straight. You’re upset that you were glad that Lance ended up going to Altea, so that you two could meet and we could all become friends?”

“Yeah,” Keith mumbled.

“Which also couldn’t have happened if you had gotten into that art school you applied to,” Shiro pointed out. “And you wouldn’t have met Theo Goldstein, let alone have him as a mentor. Because if you had gotten into that school and didn’t choose to go to Altea, none of that wouldn’t have happened.”

“For that matter,” Pidge interjected. “If you had gotten into that art school, Shiro and I would never have met either.”

“For that matter,” Shiro added, taking Pidge’s hand in his own. “If I hadn’t gotten shot down overseas, then we wouldn’t have met.”

“Or if Matt hadn’t joined the Quidditch team and dragged me to practice that day,” Pidge added.

“And you, Keith, probably wouldn’t have chosen Altea, or any university,” Shiro said. “So, no, Keith. You’re not a bad person. You’re allowed to be happy that the series of choices made by real, imperfect people has brought more people into your life, people who have a positive impact.”

“For that matter,” Pidge said. “It’s a good thing for Lance, too. Because he has us to help and support him.”

“I agree with you on that, but there is the problem of he won’t let us help him,” Keith said.

“True,” Pidge conceded. She sighed. “I just wish there was a way to make him realize that we do care, and that we want to help him. That he doesn’t have to do this on his own.”

Keith nodded in agreement and started to eat his food.

Then, he had an idea.

“What if there was a way to show him?” He said.

Shiro and Pidge exchanged another glance, but this time smiled.

“What do you have in mind?” Shiro asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you couldn't tell, Lance set his name in Keith's phone.


End file.
